Parolee and His Princess
by Canimal
Summary: Hermione was easy to overlook with her sensible shoes and her dead-end Ministry job. Thorfinn was easy to ignore as a criminal from a past most were eager to forget. When their paths cross years after the war and he's accused of a terrible crime she knows he didn't commit, she will risk everything to keep an innocent man out of Azkaban.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Monday

At some point in the last ten years, Hermione Granger had gotten used to being overlooked. Once the Second Wizarding War had been completed and Lord Voldemort defeated once and for all, it had been easy to simply slip into the background. There was a great deal of attention surrounding her best friend Harry, the so-called "Chosen One". Unfortunately she and Ron had been sucked up into the maelstrom of publicity despite her desire to be left alone. Harry endured it with the same resigned stoicism he'd employed since the tender age of eleven. Ron, out of the shadows of his older brothers for the first time in his life, ate the attention up greedily. After one too many Witch Weekly and Daily Prophet articles speculating about her role in the last year of the war as being little more than a bed warmer for one or the other of the boys, Hermione joyfully escaped back into the bosom of Hogwarts Castle to finish her final year of schooling.

Hermione would never come right out and say that she was unhappy, but there were certainly times when she wondered if there was more to life than arse-numbingly dull department meetings and occasional Sunday dinners with the Weasley clan. She lived a solitary existence. Her friends from school had all moved on with their lives in different directions from hers. Harry was happily married to the love of his life. He and Ginny were proud parents of three gorgeous children that Hermione loved from afar. Ron was too busy playing the field with eligible witches (and even the odd Muggle) all over the country. His job in his brother's Diagon Alley shop kept him right in the middle of the comings and goings of Britain's magical community. More than a few were interested in a firsthand account of the end of the last war. Even Neville Longbottom was working as Professor Sprout's assistant and engaged to the woman he'd had a crush on since fifth year.

Working long hours at the Ministry of Magic certainly didn't help her keep her relationships with her loved ones strong. She knew she shouldn't spend so much time sitting in her cramped office on the fourth level of the London Headquarters. Her job in the Office for House-Elf Relocation was supposed to be a temporary stepping stone to other divisions within the Ministry. She was supposed to learn the basics of the job and rise through the ranks accordingly. No one explained that without adhering to strict office politics she would be doomed to shuffle papers in one of the most boring departments available. There was a game to be played and much like Arthur Weasley years earlier, Hermione didn't always know the rules.

Like every other Monday night since she began her job eight years earlier, Hermione was the last one in the department. Every single one of her coworkers had already gone home, some _hours_ ago. Much like when she was the last person in the Hogwarts library, she found it easier to work with no distractions. None of her subordinates were asking her inane questions they should already know the answer to. Her direct supervisor wasn't demanding she rewrite her reports on the current state of available house-elves. And most importantly, the Department Head wasn't teasing her about S.P.E.W. whenever he had a free moment.

She enjoyed the emptiness of the building as the evening wore on. While her work could most definitely wait until the next morning, she didn't have anyone waiting for her at home. Sometimes it was just easier to stay late than to go home to an empty flat. Her grandmother would've called her an old maid if the cantankerous old woman was still alive. At almost thirty years old, Hermione was living the depressingly unfulfilled life Grannie Granger always feared she would.

Because she refused to play the game, because she refused to suck up to her supervisors or use her friendship with the current Minister for Magic to her advantage, she was stuck in a dead-end job that literally no one was anxious to take away from her. She would be trapped in her tiny, windowless office until she either retired or even more depressingly, died. Sobered by the thought of keeling over in the room with the garish gold carpet, Hermione leaned back in her uncomfortable chair to stretch her stiff, tired limbs. A quick glance at the clock on the wall revealed the time to already be a few minutes after nine.

If she left in the next few minutes, she would make it home in time to have a single glass of wine in the bath before she slipped into her empty bed alone only to wake up seven hours later to come back to work. _I really ought to find some kind of hobby_ , she thought. Her female friends would tell her that what she was really lacking was a male presence in that big, empty bed of hers. She wouldn't say they were wrong, only that prospects were disappointingly slim.

Hermione stacked her loose papers into a single, organized pile. She pulled her heavy, winter coat down from the hook beside her door and shrugged it on during the short walk to the lifts. The lights were almost all out on the fourth level due to lack of human presence at the late hour. If she had not known every inch of the department by heart, she might have been unnerved by the darkness in several spots. Years of experience taught her that there was nothing to fear.

The lifts were notorious for being slow even at that time of night when no one else in the building was waiting for one. Hermione adjusted her coat as she waited for the lift to arrive at her level. The mid-January nights had been growing colder and colder. She was thankful that her flat was only a short walk away from her Apparation point.

A large, blonde man appeared near the lifts pushing a mop in the Muggle way. Hermione had never seen him before and his sudden appearance caused her to jump. Embarrassed at being startled by the new custodian, she giggled to herself. The man likely hadn't even noticed her surprise. She allowed a brief inspection of the new arrival while his back was still turned. At several inches over six feet, he towered over Hermione. His clothes were baggy and didn't fit him well, but it was still obvious to see the large, defined muscles he was hiding. It was obvious that whatever he had been doing before he came to be pushing a mop in her department, it hadn't been done behind a desk. Something seemed familiar about him. Wizarding Britain was such a small, insulated community that it was possible they had met at some point in the past. Half of his face was still shadowed. Hermione didn't think he could be more than ten years older than her. If he was younger, they might have even been at school at the same time.

"I don't believe I've seen you around here before."

The door to the lift opened just as she finished addressing the man. In the corner of her eye she could see that he had turned around. She glanced in his direction to wish him a 'Good evening', but the words caught in her throat. A smile was spread across his familiar features that reached all the way up to his cool, blue eyes. The last time she'd been this close to the man she was modifying his memory while he lay on the sticky floor of a tacky Muggle café. Hermione rushed into the relative safety of the empty lift. She frantically pushed the button that would take her up to the Atrium. Through the crack of the closing doors, she watched Thorfinn Rowle stare at her without once dropping the smirk.

When she reached the Atrium, Hermione practically ran out the Employee Entrance. She wasted no time Apparating to the alley closest to her flat. Short minutes later she was safely inside her cold, empty home. Only when every Muggle lock was locked and every locking ward was up did she finally allow herself a moment to take a deep breath.

She took the entire bottle of wine with her to her bathtub. By the time the water grew cold and the dregs at the bottom of the bottle had been consumed, she convinced herself that she had simply being seeing things that weren't really there. She had been working too hard lately and had not been sleeping enough. There was no way that Thorfinn Rowle, Death Eater, was pushing a mop in the Ministry of Magic. He was a convicted criminal sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban. She followed all of the Death Eater trials, paying especial attention to those that had personally tried to kill her during the war. He must have been a figment of her overactive imagination, yet more proof that she had been working too hard. Maybe she would talk to her Department Head about taking some time off. He'd been hounding her to take a break for months.

Tuesday

The next morning arrived before Hermione was ready for it. She woke with a raging headache. It was too late to do more than simply wish she hadn't consumed an entire bottle of wine on her own. Her alcohol tolerance was not as strong as it used to be.

To make matters worse, the morning staff meeting was almost unbearable. Usually the Department Head had better things to do than spend his time dropping in on their weekly sub-division meeting. That day, sadly, Kenneth Towler had enough free time to check in with the poor sods relegated to the Office for House-Elf Relocation. He sat back in the leather chair at the head of the conference table patiently listening to the various reports. Only every few minutes did his attention fall on Hermione directly to either smile, or worst of all, wink.

She hated Kenneth Towler. A Gryffindor in the same year as the Weasley twins, she'd known him through her first five years at Hogwarts. Fred used to torment him relentlessly. He even once put Bulbadox powder in his pajamas to make the obnoxious twit break out in disgusting, oozing boils over his entire body. Hermione fondly remembered the moment he was helped to the infirmary after that glorious incident. If it had been anyone else in the tower, she would've been horrified and irate with the twins. Since it was the arse who had been teasing her and pulling her curls since her very first day of school in some pathetic attempt to get her attention, she simply laughed.

Towler had asked her out no less than seventy-three times (she kept a thorough record in case it was ever needed by higher-ups) since she joined the department. Thirty-seven of those requests had taken place in the two years after he was promoted to become the youngest Department Head in the entire Ministry. He was obnoxious, but if someone else didn't start showing her any positive attention soon, she was likely going to buckle and accept his invitation.

"And finally, Hermione, didn't you have a proposed bill you were wanting to submit to the Minister's staff?" asked her direct supervisor.

Snickers erupted from all eight people seated around the table at Matthew Kettletoft's question. Only Hermione failed to find the humor in his question.

"Are you attempting to reorganize spew?" inquired Towler to the further amusement of the group. "I might have a spare sickle or two to donate if need be."

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath before responding. She longed to point out that Towler was one of the very few Gryffindors to actually contribute to S.P.E.W. in her fourth, his sixth, year. No doubt he saw potential for a Hogsmeade visit out of the deal. Instead of blurting out her innermost thoughts, she bit her tongue. There was nothing to gain by embarrassing the Head of her department and quite a bit to lose.

"I have a proposal to update the terms of the House-Elf Protection Act of 2004 to include additional days off for the elves," she explained.

"The Act already guarantees two days off a month," replied Towler. "How many are you wishing to propose?"

"Eight."

The small conference room rang with the guffaws and chortles of her coworkers. One of her subordinates was even openly wiping tears from her eyes. Undeterred, she powered on through the remainder of her presentation.

"Witches and wizards are given at least four free weekends a month," she explained. "Do our elvish friends deserve any less?"

"Hermione, you have a generous heart, but in this instance, I fear it is overpowering your equally generous brain," declared Towler.

"Eight days is preposterous!" Matthew said with much less concern for her feelings. "No respectable house-elf would agree to those terms. They are an insult."

"Perhaps a revision of your proposal is needed before submission," Towler suggested. "Feel free to visit me in my private office for any assistance you might desire."

His offer was accompanied by another damned wink. Hermione didn't even try to hide the expression of absolute disgust his offer elicited. More snickers filled the room. Kenneth Towler wasn't insulted. He'd been pursuing the woman for years and still did not know when to quit. Hermione half-expected a bar of Honeydukes finest chocolate to make its way to her desk by the end of the day. He was excruciatingly predictable.

"If there is nothing further, let's adjourn and return to our own desks," Matthew ordered.

Hermione remained in her chair to allow the overly eager to exit first. Frustrated with yet another failed attempt to help pass legislation that would bring real change to the lives of the downtrodden house-elves, she took her time rearranging her stack of parchment. When the last withdrew from the conference room, she rose from her chair. She was two steps away from the door when her arm was grabbed. Towler had been waiting for her at the exit.

"I meant what I said, Hermione," he said, his hand lightly brushing her forearm. "I would be more than happy to provide additional assistance to get your bill passed."

She shrugged her arm out of his grasp. Kenneth simply stepped closer, effectively pinning her body against the wall.

"Even if it means working late into the night."

His voice dropped to a low, husky tone that needed no interpretation. Hermione hated how backwards and behind the times the Wizarding world could be. In the Muggle world, Kenneth Towler could be fired and sued for his relentless behavior. Here, she risked being labeled a frigid troublemaker if she reported him.

"You are wasted in this division," he continued. "There's a position coming open very soon in the Goblin Liaison Office. Much higher pay. Much larger office with _two_ windows. The Minister is waiting on my recommendation."

There was no more respected division within the entire Department than the Goblin Liaison Office. It was a position that commanded great respect and Ministry officials actually _listened_ to those important enough to be in that office. She would do just about anything for the opportunity. Based on the way Towler was running his index finger across her exposed collarbone, it didn't take a genius to figure out what he wanted in exchange. Hermione gulped. Suddenly she wasn't so sure about doing _anything_.

"Have dinner with me Saturday night. We can discuss all of the tedious details over an exorbitantly expensive bottle of wine."

"Okay."

Her agreement to go out on what was essentially a date with her hated Department Head tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself. A bright grin crossed Kenneth's face. Apparently, the seventy- _fourth_ time was the charm.

"Should I pick you up from your flat or should we meet here?"

"Here is fine." There was no way she was going to let the horrid man anywhere near her home.

"I look forward to it."

Kenneth exited the conference room with an extra spring in his step. Hermione feared she was going to be sick. She ignored all of the knowing smirks from her coworkers as she rushed back to her office to hide. Despite what might or might not happen after Saturday night, she still had a mountain of work to complete and a bill proposal to revise.

She spent the rest of the workday hiding in her cramped, windowless office. More than once her thoughts strayed to what life might be like in one of the airy offices in the back of the department. Her thoughts were interrupted after five by the sudden appearance of her direct supervisor. He avoided conversations with her whenever possible.

"What did Towler want to talk to you about after the meeting?" he demanded.

Matthew Kettletoft was one of the worst examples of a Hufflepuff that Hermione had ever personally known. How the Sorting Hat ever saw fit to put him in a House that was known for its loyalty and kindness was beyond her understanding. At almost forty years old, Matthew was bitter that he'd failed to rise higher in the Ministry ranks that he had. He was a man who expected all of the good things to happen to him without any of the hard work. From the moment they met, Hermione had not found a single admirable trait about the wizard. The only positive that could be said about him was the combination of his olive complexion and his dark wavy hair made him passably attractive.

"He offered to help me with the bill again," she answered, neglecting to elaborate further on their private discussion.

"That's it?" Matthew was skeptical.

"That was all."

Unsatisfied with her answer but knowing he wouldn't get any more out of the witch, Matthew narrowed his eyes and swept out of her office. He was headed towards the lifts with the majority of the other in the department. Hermione settled back into her work to distract her mind from other more unpleasant thoughts. The revision of the bill proposal meant hours of work ahead.

In an almost exact repeat of the previous night, Hermione laid her quill down a few minutes before nine. Her eyes were beginning to cross and go blurry the longer she stared at her proposal. After stretching her entire body and rubbing her tired eyes, she carefully stacked her parchments in a single, tidy pile. She removed her coat from the hook behind her office door. It was during her short walk to the lifts that she remembered how anxious and frightened she'd been the night before when she could've sworn she'd seen Thorfinn Rowle.

The reminder of her hallucination made her chuckle while she waited for the lift to arrive. She made a quick survey of the semi-dark floor. It seemed that once again she was completely alone.

"You are working too hard, Granger," she said aloud. "You definitely need more sleep."

The doors to the lift chimed announced the arrival to her level. A self-deprecating smile was still on her lips when the doors began to open. Sometimes Hermione could hardly believe how stressed out she could make herself. She was still smiling when the muscular blonde man appeared with his mop and bucket. Their eyes met once again and Hermione had to resist the urge to take off running for the stairs. The Thorfinn Rowle look-alike smiled back as he exited the lift. Their sleeves brushed against each other. Hermione's entire body erupted into goosebumps at the sensation. She was in the lift and frantically pushing the button for the Atrium when he spoke.

"Have a good evening, Princess."

Her jaw fell at the familiar sobriquet. His soft laughter echoed in her ears as the doors shut, obliterating him from her view. Only one person called her Princess. One person that she hadn't seen in years. It was a remnant of her miserable first year at Hogwarts where a cruel seventh year Slytherin used to tease her without mercy. It was last shouted at her across the battlefield of a crumbling Hogwarts corridor as various shades of debilitating curses flew out of a Death Eater's wand. She was in a full-blown panic by the time the lift opened onto the Atrium level. There was no denying that for whatever reason she couldn't possibly fathom, Thorfinn Rowle was out of Azkaban with access to the building she spent most of her waking hours.

Wednesday

After a rather sleepless night pacing the floors of her flat, Hermione entered the Ministry with purpose. While most of the new arrivals were still bleary eyes and anxious for another cup of their preferred caffeinated beverage, she was on a mission. The crowds parted before her almost as if the world was aware she was not a woman to be messed with. Or more likely, she had a manic gleam in her whiskey colored eyes that tended to make those around her uncomfortable.

Her feet carried her directly to the office of the Minister for Magic. Kingsley was a dear, old friend from their Order days. He still enjoyed dropping by her office for a chinwag when his busy schedule allowed. Those rare visits were usually the highlight of Hermione's month. She loved seeing how flustered Matthew became during the unscheduled visits. It was one of the only times he showed her any respect at all. Those were some of the only times her status as a genuine war heroine was acknowledged.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," greeted Kingsley's personal assistant. "May I help you with something?"

"Thank you, Gemma. I just need a quick word with Kingsley."

Hermione rushed pat the witch's desk and straight to the ornate door of the Minister's private office. Like her, Kingsley was a creature of habit. She knew without a doubt that he always arrived no later than seven forty-five each morning and left no earlier than six-thirty each evening. Unless he was called out of the Headquarters for a special meeting or appointment, he spent the first forty-five minutes of his day reading the classified news reports from the night before while enjoying a pot of Earl Grey and two blueberry scones. His partner was forever nagging him to limit his pastry intake in the mornings to a single scone, but Kingsley never heeded his sage advice.

"Minister Shacklebolt is not available," Gemma said, almost pushing Hermione away from the door.

"Step away from the door, Gemma," Hermione ordered. "I know for a fact that Kingsley doesn't have an appointment for the next twenty minutes. I've already checked his schedule."

Without giving the former Slytherin prefect a chance to argue, Hermione barged into Kingsley's office. She practically slammed the door in the other witch's face. The Minister was startled enough by her abrupt entrance to drop one of his buttered scones on top of the report he was in the middle of perusing. A wide smile crossed his face when he realized who his intruder was. He didn't seem surprised in the slightest to see her standing on the opposite side of his desk.

"Good morning, Hermione. What can I do for you today?"

"You can explain to me just why in the bloody hell I have seen Thorfinn Rowle in my department the last two nights!"

Kingsley shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn't used to Hermione raising her voice. It had been many years since they were in a situation that required such vehemence. Hermione stood in front of him with her hands on each hip, waiting for his response.

"Have you read the memo on Azkaban parolees that was circulating last week?" he asked.

"No, I haven't," she admitted. "You know most of the memos we receive are complete rubbish. How am I expected to know which ones are important enough to read?"

Kingsley nodded his head in agreement. His decades with the Ministry gave him more than enough experience to know she was correct. There was simply no motivation for an employee to read every single memo that crossed their desk. They would be unable to complete their actual job if that were the case.

"A few former Death Eaters have been selected for a trial parole program," he explained. "Rowle was selected because of his history of good behavior in Azkaban."

Hermione snorted. Somehow she doubted that that man was capable of spending years locked up in a prison without causing trouble. If _he_ was an example of a model prisoner, she could only imagine how terrible the truly awful ones were.

"He will be working in the Ministry late at night for the foreseeable future."

"This is insane, Kingsley! What's next? Is Antonin Dolohov going to start serving tea in the canteen? Alecto Carrow going to start handing out fresh towels in the loo?"

"I understand your concerns, Hermione."

"' _Concerns'_? Kingsley, before the other night, the last time I saw Thorfinn Rowle he was trying to kill me at Hogwarts. He has a personal vendetta against me."

Kingsley rose from his desk to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"The war was over a long time ago, Hermione."

"It's doesn't feel like it to me sometimes," she replied. "Especially when one of the bad guys is out and mopping the floors."

"I have been assured by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that there was an extensive screening process before any of the parolees were released from Azkaban. Mr. Rowle was analyzed by a team of experts and was determined to not be a threat to public safety. If it makes you feel better, he is forbidden from performing any kind of magic for the first two years that he is out."

 _At least that explains why he's been mopping like a Muggle_ , she thought. To be stripped of his magic made Hermione feel a twinge of sympathy for the man. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to be unable to use what came so naturally. As a Pureblood, it must be exponentially worse. _Stop feeling sorry for the monster, Granger._

"I'm honestly surprised that you didn't talk to Harry about this earlier," Kingsley said. "His office has been assisting in the project."

Hermione leaned up to kiss her friend on the cheek.

"I apologize for barging in on you, Kings. I was simply _surprised._ "

"No need to apologize, dear girl. I understand."

She excused herself from the Minister's Office. Gemma Farley was glaring at her when she exited. Hermione didn't care. She had more important issues to worry about. Like why her best friend didn't feel the need to mention he was part of an organization letting dangerous Death Eaters free. She checked her watch. Harry was usually in his office by eight unless there were problems getting the kids through breakfast. She directed her steps towards the stairs. It was past time that she had a visit with her best friend.

* * *

 _Author's Note: I've been kicking this idea in my head for a little while. As_ **The Dark Mage's Captive** _has grown darker, I needed a little break from the doom and gloom. Not to worry, loyal readers. I'm off to work on the next chapter of that story now._

 _This story will not be anywhere near as long as my other two. I plan on chapters ranging between 4,000 and 5,000 words to allow for quick updates. Hopefully, everyone will enjoy it!_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The Auror Office on the second level was just beginning to come alive with the beginning of the day. Very few of the aurors were what one might consider a 'morning person'. Their job duties often kept them up at strange hours. Despite the early hour, there were dozens of personnel wandering around the comfortably appointed offices. No one stopped Hermione when she barged in headed towards their Head of Office's own personal chamber. In fact, it almost felt as if no one even saw her. Snorting quietly to herself at the thought, she wondered if she had finally become invisible. She had been threatening to for years.

Harry was already seated at his large desk shuffling through reports. His untidy black hair and perpetually crooked glasses never failed to bring a smile to Hermione's face. Somehow she got the feeling that no matter how old they grew, those two aspects about her best friend would never change. In the ten years since he defeated Voldemort, Harry had grown a few inches and the intense training for his current position filled his frame out with lean muscles. She knew that if the man ever felt inclined, there would be a bevy of beautiful witches ready to help him forsake his marital vows. For Ginny's sake at least, it helped that the wizard had no eyes for anyone but the redhead.

The youngest Head of the Aurors looked up briefly from his reports at his arrival. Instantly a broad grin crossed his familiar features that Hermione was powerless to keep from returning. He was away from his desk and across his office in moments to pull his dear friend into a warm embrace.

"And to what do I owe this lovely surprise?" he asked, escorting her to one of the chairs across from his desk. "You very rarely grace us with your presence up here."

"I wanted to talk to you about the Azkaban parole program."

Harry's buoyant mood deflated at her response. He sank into his own chair and sighed.

"I take it you've seen Rowle in your department."

"Why didn't you tell me, Harry? Why didn't you _personally_ inform me that there was a high probability that I was going to see that man in my office?"

The savior of the wizarding world was at a loss for words. His reticence infuriated Hermione. She had no doubt in her mind that he knew it would upset her to find out that a Death Eater she had more than one dealing with was going to be working in the same building. Before he could blurt out some half-arsed, rote response, she continued.

"You know about my history of run-ins with Rowle."

"Honestly, 'Mione, I didn't think it would be that big of a deal. It's been almost ten years since the end of the war."

"You know how he tormented me in school."

"Yes, you've told me, but _that_ was _seventeen_ years ago. We weren't even friends when he started teasing you and even after we became friends, you never told us. Do you remember waiting to tell us on one of those nights in that blasted, smelly tent why you hated him so much? Neither of us had any clue."

Hermione glared at her friend. He wasn't intimidated. It was an expression he was all too familiar with. Years had passed since she could unsettle him with a look. She couldn't believe he was being so callous about her feelings. What had happened to their friendship that he didn't even seem to care that she was upset? The Harry she knew was sensitive and cognizant of those around him. Maybe being a Dark wizard catcher for so many years had changed him in ways she did not care for.

"What started all of that anyway? You never explained _why_ Rowle used to bother you in first year."

She was too embarrassed to admit why Thorfinn started seeking her out for torment. It was too humiliating and she'd managed to make it years without thinking about that moment in the library the first week of school. Knowing she wasn't going to get the satisfaction she desired, Hermione rose from her chair in a huff.

"It doesn't matter. After all, it was _seventeen_ years ago."

She headed for the door to the office. Harry called out to make her stop.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean it like that. Don't go."

"Can you just do me a favor and warn me before Antonin Dolohov gets hired as my personal assistant? I'd like a little warning before I see him again."

She stormed out of Harry's office with his pleas ringing in her ears. The meeting with Harry had not gone at all like she hoped it would. What she expected from him exactly wasn't clear. Maybe just a simple acknowledgement that her anger was justified? An apology that wasn't too trite? In much the same fashion as the Ministry workers did on the atrium level, the aurors moved to get out of her way as she crossed the department. She was too furious to head straight to her office and decided to take the stairs down the fourth level. Maybe by the time she worked out her lungs for a few minutes she might actually be able to breathe without wanting to curse everyone within a ten meter radius.

Her coworkers were all openly staring at her when she finally emerged from the stairwell and made her way across to the Office for House-Elf Relocation. She was never the last one to arrive. Certainly the twits who worked in her office must have thought she'd been run over by the Knight Bus or floating in a bathtub full of her own self-extracted blood. Even Emily was seated at her desk and that girl had never been on time to anything in her entire life. Finding that she was still annoyed with the world in general, Hermione glared at every single person who dared to look in her direction as she stomped to her office.

Once inside the safety of her matchbox, she ripped her coat off with enough fury that she almost ripped the sleeve. She turned her back on the rest of the office that she _thought_ was empty to hang the offending garment on the hook behind the door.

"I was beginning to get worried. You are _never_ late."

Hermione groaned at the sound of the voice before turning around to face her Department Head. Kenneth was leaned back in her chair as far as it would go with his feet resting on the desk. She longed to curse his appendages off of his ankles. He had no respect for the neat, organized piles she had laying across the desk.

"Is there something I can help you with, Kenneth?" She didn't even try to disguise the frustration in her voice.

"I just wanted to confirm our date. I was afraid all night last night that you would talk yourself out of it once you made it home."

She struggled to not groan again at his statement. Wasn't it bad enough that he practically tricked her into going out on a date? Did he really have to keep rubbing it in her face before she even had her morning tea? Determined to keep playing the game even if it killed her, she plastered a false smile on her face.

"Yes, of course we are still on for dinner Saturday night."

"Excellent."

Kenneth carefully placed his feet back on the floor, knocking over a large stack of paper in the process. He stood up from the chair without even acknowledging his action. Hermione fought the urge to curse him yet again.

"I have a very busy day ahead."

He crossed the tiny space in only a few seconds. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a bar of Honeydukes Premium dark chocolate. Hermione took it and tried not to roll her eyes. She'd lost count the number of times he'd given her this exact bar over the years. He witnessed her buy one bar in her fifth year while practically stalking her around Hogsmeade. Kenneth placed his hands on the outside of her shoulders to lightly squeeze them for a moment.

"I know how much you like these."

With another damned wink sent in her direction, Kenneth walked out of the office. Hermione slipped the chocolate bar into the pocket of her coat. She never actually ate the treat. The one purchase she made turned out to be a regrettable mistake. She usually gave Kenneth's chocolate bars to the night security guard in the atrium when she left for the evening.

A large stack of parchment that _hadn't_ been kicked to the floor by her obnoxious visitor was waiting for her on the edge of her desk. It hadn't been there when she left the night before. Matthew scrawled a note on top demanding that she have the entire pile completed on his desk before she left for home that evening. Now that she was alone she didn't even try to hide the deep growl that came out of her mouth. She wasn't an idiot. She knew that he was trying to keep her too occupied to prevent her from having a spare moment to spend on the bill proposal. Subtlety was not a skill he possessed.

The benefit of having an enormous amount of work to complete was that Hermione did not have a spare moment to dwell on her morning frustrations for the rest of the day. She worked through lunch. When her coworkers began packing up and heading out the door, she hardly even noticed. She felt calm and relaxed when she was busy. The downside of having an enormous amount of work to complete was that she didn't even notice when the time crept past nine and began to close in on half past.

She was finally able to drop her quill after crossing the last t half an hour later than she usually left. Realizing that the late hour meant she would be unable to avoid seeing Thorfinn Rowle for a third time in as many days, she grumbled. After slipping the pile of completed forms and applications on Matthew's desk, she dashed back to her office to grab her coat. She didn't even stop long enough pull the garment on before walking towards the lifts. So far there hadn't been a sign of the burly blonde.

While waiting for the blasted lift to arrive at her level, she was joined in her wait by the newest member of the Ministry team. Thorfinn pushed his bucket with his mop, carefully avoiding sloshing any of the liquid over the sides. He greeted her with a silent smile that she didn't return. Their wait for the slow lift seemed to last an eternity.

"I'm sorry for startling you the last two nights," he declared, breaking the silence.

"You didn't."

It was a lie and if Thorfinn's immediate laugh was any indication, he knew it was too.

"I didn't lose my mind in Azkaban, you know," he replied.

She narrowed her brown eyes and spun in place to stare into his blue eyes with a confused expression. Why was he bringing up his mental health and his previous address of the last ten years? He could be infuriatingly random.

"No dementors there anymore."

Following the end of the Second Wizarding War, Kingsley had been able to use some of his considerable influence as the new Minister for Magic to banish the dreaded dementors from their island in the North Sea. The creatures had proven their loyalty to the Ministry, or lack thereof. No one trusted that they wouldn't turn again. In truth, there had been a quiet movement for years to remove the dementors from the prisoners' daily lives. They were inhumane. Many also believed they were at risk of becoming as dangerous and cruel as the very witches and wizards they were banishing to the fortress by allowing the creatures to suck all happiness out of their charges. Only a tiny portion of the wizarding community spoke out against the proposed changes. Before the first of the convicted Death Eaters were ferried to the prison to start their life sentences, the dementors were gone.

"I mean, I'm not stupid, Princess. Of course I scared you."

Hermione didn't know how to respond to the man. Part of her wondered if he would go away if she continued to ignore him.

"Don't tell me. No one warned you I would be working here?"

She glared at his loud, renewed laughter. It might have been a pleasant sound if it was coming from any other source.

"No wonder you were so terrified."

"Yes, well, the last time I'd seen you, you were trying to kill me at Hogwarts."

The lift chose that moment to arrive. When the doors opened, Hermione wasted no time crossing into the space. Her hated chocolate bar fell from the pocket of the coat she still had slung over her forearm. Thorfinn bent down to pick the bar up off the floor.

"I forgot they made these," he said, smiling down at the candy.

"You can have it."

Hermione was surprised she made the offer. It just sort of tumbled out. His cool, blue eyes lit up at the sight of the popular candy. She wondered when the last time was that he'd had anything from Honeydukes. It was such a large part of both of their childhoods that the thought of being denied something she took for granted for so long made her sad.

"You sure?" He didn't believe her generosity. Surely there would be strings attached. "A lot has changed in the last ten years, but I know these are still expensive."

"I don't want it."

"Thanks."

The lift started to move at the exact moment the smiling wizard started ripping the bar open. A small piece of parchment fluttered out from beneath the candy's wrapping. Hermione blushed at the sight and tried to grab it before it landed on the floor. Thorfinn caught it in one hand. Ignoring, or perhaps enjoying, the flushed cheeks of the woman standing next to him, he began to read the contents aloud.

"'Looking forward to Saturday night. I knew you couldn't resist me forever.'"

Hermione was mortified. She wished she knew a spell that would allow her to melt into a puddle on the floor and slip underneath the closed door. Thorfinn flashed her his brightest smile.

"Watch out. You got a hot date this weekend?"

She refused to dignify his question with an answer. Just closed her eyes and dreamed of her life before this horrible moment happened.

"Good for you, Princess."

A horrifying thought popped into her mind that she hadn't considered. For yet another time in that atrocious day, she groaned.

"Ach, he can't be _that_ bad."

"No, it's not that," she answered. "I had no idea he left me messages in the wrapping. He's been giving me those for _years_ and I've been giving them to the night security guard. There's no telling what kind of embarrassing messages I've been slipping to the man."

Thorfinn's warm laughter grew even louder. He, at least, was enjoying the ride immensely.

"Bernie? The bloke with the grey beard as long as old Dumbles'?" he asked.

"Yes." She cringed. "I guess that explains why he's always so friendly. He probably thinks I've been harboring some all-consuming love for him all these years."

The lift stopped at the atrium level. Thorfinn stopped laughing long enough to peer out the open doors.

"Fuck, forgot to hit my level. Got distracted."

He winked down at the flustered woman. Hermione quickly stepped out of the lift. She wanted to go home and die of her embarrassment in private. In the corner of her eye she caught Thorfinn stopping the closing doors with his hand. She paused her steps.

"Princess, think about Hogwarts. Did you ever see anything green come out of my wand?"

She didn't understand what he was saying. Her confusion must have been obvious.

"If I had been trying to kill you, I would've just gone straight for it and moved on."

Thorfinn winked at her again and let the doors close. Hermione laid up most of the night in bed thinking about his statement.

Thursday

Hermione arrived at the employee entrance to the Ministry of Magic very early the next morning. She didn't want to be caught off-guard by Kenneth again. It had been exceptionally unnerving to be surprised by him in her office. Her tiny office might be dreadful, but it was hers. She wasn't comfortable with anyone encroaching on her private space. _Might explain why it's been over a year since you had a man anywhere near your other private space, Granger._ She tried to shake the depressing thought out of her brain on the way to the Ministry canteen.

There were only a few other souls wandering around the building at that time of morning. Most wouldn't arrive for at least another hour. Hermione was going to need an extra large cup of tea to get through that morning. She hadn't slept well in days, since before she found out about Thorfinn being released from Azkaban. When she paid the lady at the tea cart for her beverage, she remembered her conversation the morning before with Kingsley. The sudden thought of Antonin Dolohov handing her a cup of tea while wearing a hairnet made her snort. If the serving witch was offended, she didn't show it. Hermione stepped away from the cart and saw Bernie the night guard. He smiled to her and waved. Remembering the events of the night before, she waved back and began giggling like a fourteen year old girl on her first trip to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop.

She was still smiling when she walked into her office on the fourth level. No one else was in the department yet to see her uncharacteristic behavior. Her surprisingly upbeat mood lasted the rest of the day. Nothing exciting ever really happened in her job. It was mostly paperwork and meetings. When it came time to leave for the day, everyone else always seemed excited and relieved.

There appeared to be an extra level of chattering happening just outside her office door amongst the members of their sub-division. Ordinarily Hermione would've just closed the door to block out the noise, but it wasn't really disturbing her that day. Two of the youngest members of their team were standing by their desks laughing. Hermione dropped her quill to take a closer look.

"I can't believe it's been this long since the last time we all went out for drinks," said Emily, Hermione's sort-of personal assistant. She was supposed to be anyway, but often found herself too distracted to be of any real value. Too frequently Hermione ended up simply taking back the projects she assigned to the flighty girl to finish on her own. "I could really use a couple of cocktails. This week has been unbelievably stressful!"

Hermione snorted. The girl had no idea what stressful was. She hadn't even been at Hogwarts yet when the final battle was fought. She certainly had never had to fight for her life. And considering the stresses that Hermione had experienced that week with her job and the reappearance of a feared Death Eater in her life, she had zero sympathy for the idiot. Matthew emerged from his office at that exact moment. She hoped he was about to berate the girl for her outburst.

"Where are we meeting?" he asked, surprising Hermione. She had no idea that he spent actual social time with his subordinates.

"The Leaky Cauldron," Emily answered. "Is everyone in the office coming?"

"I think so."

Matthew walked away from Emily's desk to head straight for Hermione's. She had never been invited to join any of the others for drinks. It was unanticipated that her boss would seek her out. Maybe the cool relations were finally going to start warming in their little slice of the Ministry.

"Hermione?"

She sat up straighter in her chair and smiled.

"Yes, Matthew?"

"Would you go ahead and finish the December placement report you assigned to Emily? You are always here and Em's got an important appointment this evening. Thanks."

He was out of her office before she could even respond. Of course it was too much to hope for that they would actually want to include her in their plans. She tried to keep from feeling the disappointment his insensitive request caused. Naturally she failed miserably. The moment the last of the office headed towards the lift, Hermione used her wand to shut the door. Hating every single tear that fell, she laid her head on her desk and cried.

She hated her job more than she could put into words and she was known for writing essays feet longer than assigned. It was too easy for outsiders to tell her to just either get over it because _everyone_ hates their job or to find another one. Jobs were limited in the wizarding world. Extremely limited in some fields. Despite no one openly admitting it, there were still plenty of doors that were shut to her because of her blood status. They'd fought an entire war against a wizard that wanted Muggleborns eradicated, but there were still firm believers that those like her did not belong. Escaping into the Muggle world was out of the question. What kind of job could she get with no education past age eleven? She could transfigure a tortoise into a teapot but could hardly turn a computer on. She could perform complex arithmantic equations in her sleep but basic algebra confounded her.

The older she got the more she understood that life was not a fairytale. It was easy to think as an innocent, naïve child that once she grew up life would be perfect. Just because someone possessed an inordinate amount of talent and brains did not mean they would find their niche. Dream jobs were just that, _dreams_. She learned soon after leaving Hogwarts that it was better to work in a job she hated that paid the bills than living off of someone else's generosity as she tried to 'find herself'. Reality was nothing like she expected it to be as a child.

She waited in her office until almost 9:30. The fucking report that just _had_ to be completed that night was done. She hated that she didn't have the fortitude to tell Matthew where he could shove his placement reports. Every minute that passed made the prospect of moving to the Goblin Liaison Office all the more attractive. She would worry about what was expected of her to get that position later.

When she saw Thorfinn pushing his bucket towards the lifts, she grabbed her coat and virtually ran towards him. She had questions for him that had been plaguing her since the night before. He was going to give her answers if she had to bother him all night. The doors to the lift were just about to close when she slipped in.

"Good evening, Princess. You didn't accidentally declare your undying devotion to the little, old witch that cleans the loos today, did you?"

The lift stopped on the third level. Thorfinn stepped out. He winked at Hermione and began to push his mop bucket. Hermione stood in the track of the closing doors to pause the lift.

"What did you mean last night?"

Thorfinn turned back around at her question. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't answer.

"When you told me that nothing green came out of your wand. Why were you dueling me if you weren't planning on killing me?"

The wizard dropped his eyes to his large feet shuffling nervously. Even not knowing the man very well it was easy to discern that he was tremendously uncomfortable with her questions. Their roles were reversed from the night before. Now he was the one who looked like he wished he could melt away into a puddle. After an internal debate, he finally sighed and met her eyes again.

"I was trying to keep you occupied."

"Why?"

"Because Dolohov had a hard-on for you! And not the kind that would result in your mutual pleasure and satisfaction either. He used to tell me that he almost killed you in the Department of Mysteries and he wouldn't rest until he finished what he started."

Hermione wasn't even slightly surprised by his explanation. She'd always known that Dolohov was unstable and dangerous. Every single day she was reminded of the lengths he was willing to go to to end her life when she caught sight of the hideous scar across her torso. She knew when she was modifying his memory right along with Thorfinn's that he wouldn't just let that go. He would always be her greatest fear. If a boggart took up residence in her desk drawer, she had no doubt that the manic form of Dolohov pointing his wand at her would appear.

"I knew if I kept you busy he would have less opportunity to find you. I was _hoping_ to hit you with a stunner and figure out a way to hide you, but then your bloody side was winning and one of those damned Weasleys hit me in the back."

"Why did you care if he killed me?"

Thorfinn shrugged his broad shoulders.

"Guess I figured I liked living in a world with you still in it."

At his admission, the wizard pushed his bucket towards the back of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Hermione stepped back into the lift allowing the doors to once again block her view of the peculiar man.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Friday

The end of the work week dawned before Hermione was ready for it. Fridays were always an exciting day for her coworkers who looked forward to any reason to skive off work. Every inch of the Ministry building Hermione travelled through the course of her daily routine was filled with conversations of weekend plans. Mid-January wasn't the best time for weekend jaunts around the countryside but there still seemed a great many had grand plans for their two days of freedom from the drudgery of their job. It was a miracle that any work got completed at all on the last day of the week.

Hermione had nothing to look forward to once the weekend began. If anything, she had a sense of dread regarding her blasted dinner date with her Department Head. To make matters worse, Arthur Weasley caught her in the lift early that morning and virtually forced her to accept an invitation on Sunday for dinner with the entire family. It had been too long since they had all seen her, he'd said. Hermione could think of about a thousand other arduous tasks she would've preferred to complete than spend another Sunday evening explaining to her adoptive family why she was still single. Resurrecting Voldemort was one of them.

It was best to keep to herself on days like that when doing actual productive work was the furthest thought from anyone's mind. Not that she had a problem keeping to herself any other day, of course. Around lunchtime she had to force herself to leave the safety of her office to appease the fierce grumbling in her stomach. Her path back from the Ministry canteen took her right in front of Matthew's office. Ordinarily she would've rushed past as quickly as possible to avoid any interactions with the horrible man, but the sound of raised voices startled her enough to stop.

The door was shut. However, Hermione was an expert in stealthy charms. One did not spend a great deal of time with Fred and George Weasley and _not_ learn a few tricks. With a deceptively simple Notice Me Not charm and a background noise cancelling charm cast, she could hear the conversation inside the office as clear as if she was inside the room too. Matthew's nasal, obnoxious whinging tone was easy to pick out. The second voice was familiar, but difficult to place. She had to listen for at least a minute and hear Matthew call him by name before she was aware that the other man was Zacharias Smith.

"Pompous wanker," she muttered under her breath.

She had many similar opinions about Zacharias that she did about Matthew. She'd never cared much for the Hufflepuff in her year. His lack of loyalty was proven the day of the Final Battle at Hogwarts when he practically knocked petrified first years out of the way to get out of the castle. Like Matthew, he exhibited none of the positive traits that their House was known for.

"Thorfinn _Fucking_ Rowle!" Zacharias shouted.

Hermione's ears perked up at the sound of the former Death Eater's name. What would bring Smith to the Ministry to discuss the man with her boss? She knew for a fact Zacharias was a Healer at St. Mungo's. He had never come to visit her department before. She would've remembered seeing his haughty, pinched face.

"I know, mate," Matthew sighed. "It must've been a shock for you to hear."

"No one warned us. I had to hear it from my cousin Calliope that he was out of Azkaban. Why wouldn't they warn me?"

"I don't know, mate," he sighed again.

It was obvious by Matthew's rote response that Zacharias had been going off about Thorfinn was awhile. Hermione wondered why he cared so much to be so upset.

"I get your concerns, Zach, I really do, but you haven't even seen him yet and he's been out a week. It's likely he won't be an issue."

Zacharias scoffed, obviously not believing the man's attempt at reassurance.

"I can't believe the Minister allowed this, a known dangerous criminal wandering the streets."

"I know you've got a little more reason than the rest of us to worry, mate, but I really think it'll turn out all right."

"I'm just worried about my wife and my girls."

"Of course you are. You're a good man, Zacharias."

Hermione rolled her eyes and cancelled her charms. She had a rather different opinion about the wizard. It was frustrating that they were being so harsh on Thorfinn when he hadn't done anything wrong since his release. What did Zacharias care anyway? He didn't even work for the Ministry. Realizing she was actually feeling defensive on Thorfinn's behalf made her erupt in a series of awkward giggles. Her tune had certainly changed after a couple of conversations with the parolee. She convinced herself in the short walk to her office that she wasn't being defensive because of who he was, but because she was just bothered by her two least favorite Hufflepuffs being in the same room together.

Kenneth was waiting in her office for her return. Not for the first time she cursed her need for food. Surely magic could make eating and drinking obsolete. He was seated on the edge of her desk (safely away from any piles of parchment, she was pleased to see) staring at the door. The moment she stepped through the doorway his face broke into a wide grin.

"Have you been waiting long?" she asked crossing the office to the safe place behind her desk.

"Just a few minutes," he answered, turning his body to face her. "I wanted to confirm the details of our date tomorrow night."

Hermione fought the urge to shudder at his use of the word 'date'. He, at least, was taking this dinner seriously.

"Let's meet in the Atrium at seven," he suggested. "I have reservations in Diagon Alley. Somewhere very nice. I hope you will be impressed."

"Sounds good."

Kenneth hopped off her desk, shooting her one of his blasted winks. Her tight smile rapidly became rolled eyes when his back was turned. Only moments after Kenneth exited her space, Matthew came rushing in. Hermione reminded herself to take a deep breath lest she explode at another unwelcome intrusion.

"What did Towler want?" he demanded.

She wanted to laugh at her boss' paranoia. He could be so transparent at times. Ordinarily she might have wanted to play up his fears with a few well-timed comments about private conversations she often had with the Department Head and the Minister for Magic, but she was already annoyed with the man and wanted him out of her office.

"I don't have to tell you everything that Kenneth and I discuss, Matthew," she answered, loving the way his eye twitched when she used his first name. "Maybe we were just discussing the tawdry affair we are about to start and whose desk we should shag on first."

Matthew snorted.

"Yeah, the day the virgin Ice Queen lets some poor bloke slide in between her thighs is the day I snap my wand and run off to be a Muggle."

He exited the office shortly after laughing hard enough that he was bright red and struggling for air. Hermione had to place both of her hands on her desk palms down to keep from hexing his bollocks from his body. To say she was highly offended was a gross understatement. She never understood why everyone had always assumed she was a prude. From the first time she let Viktor talk her into a late-night visit to the empty Quidditch change rooms, she'd had plenty of experience with the opposite sex. Once even with another witch but they'd both been drinking heavily and she hardly remembered the details. After her painfully brief relationship with Ron after the end of the war, she hadn't been in a single serious relationship, but she'd certainly been with enough men to make her Grannie Granger blush. Finding someone willing to have sex with her had never been a problem. Finding someone who would still be there the next morning was. She was bloody sick of one-offs.

She stewed in her anger for the rest of the blasted day. Only when the department emptied out did she start to unwind. When she decided to finally call it a night and pull her heavy coat on, she could see Thorfinn making his way towards the lifts. She didn't say a word in greeting. Simply stood next to him while they waited.

"This is becoming something of a habit, isn't it?" he asked, his piercing blue eyes twinkling.

Hermione simply shrugged her shoulders.

"This is my usual schedule," she replied.

"You work too much."

The simple sentence that she'd heard a million times usually made her angry or at least frustrated. Hearing it from Thorfinn only made her laugh. He had a bizarre effect on her she was learning.

"So I've been told."

"I'm here for eight hours of work and one full hour for break from six to three am. I don't stay a _second_ longer than required. I'm walking out the door by 3:01."

Their lift arrived just then. Thorfinn held the doors open to allow Hermione to enter first. She found it funny that this same gesture from other men always felt rehearsed and disingenuous. With Thorfinn it felt natural. It amused her that the man who used to torment her as a young girl and who had run off to pledge his life to an evil wizard could be so naturally polite.

"Good luck on your date, Princess," he said with one of his well-known winks as he exited on to the third level.

"Thanks," Hermione mumbled.

"Wear something tight that shows off those gorgeous legs I'm convinced you have hidden under those frumpy robes."

His cocky grin made Hermione burst out laughing yet again. She should've been offended. If anyone else had said what he had, she would've been. The doors closed on the smirking wizard and she found only amusement in his statement.

Saturday

Hermione tried to sleep in late but her disciplined body wouldn't allow it. Or perhaps more likely, her exhausted body wasn't used to getting a proper night's sleep and didn't know how to function with too much rest. Whatever the reason, it was damned frustrating. She decided to try being lazy for once. Nothing else sounded better to her than staying snuggled up in bed alone.

"Or actually it would be better with someone warm and muscular and naked."

She giggled to the empty room after making her comment aloud. A warm, masculine body pressed up behind her sounded heavenly. She closed her eyes and snuggled up with her pillow to fantasize about the scenario for a little while. When she found herself involuntarily imagining a certain blonde with striking, cool blue eyes naked, her own eyes shot open. She jumped out of the cocoon of her blankets horrified that she allowed her mind to wander so far.

"It's official, Granger. You've waited too long between men."

She spent her Saturday in a constant state of unease dreading her evening date. Her hopes that time would go by slowly were quickly dashed as she could almost see time speed up. Any chance of using her Saturday for normal activities like shopping or cleaning were impossible when she realized how little time she had left until she was supposed to meet Kenneth.

To calm her nerves she took a large glass of wine with her into a scalding hot bath. By the time her hair was washed and the rest of her was clean, she felt marginally composed. At the very least she was certain she wasn't about to have a panic attack or throw up all over herself. She found further relaxation while charming her notoriously unruly hair into sleek, tamed waves. A second glass of wine didn't hurt matters either.

When she opened her wardrobe to find something to wear was when a struggle began. She hated everything she owned. It was too late to go out to buy a completely new outfit and besides, wasn't that what one did when they were _excited_ about their date? Hermione covered her bed in rejected option after rejected option.

She would've loved to have another woman's opinion. More than once she considered tossing a pinch of Floo powder into her fireplace to beg for reinforcements. She never allowed herself to follow through with those plans. Ginny or Angelina would gladly push their respective babies into their husbands' arms to help. Even Hannah would be over in a heartbeat assuming she wasn't busy working at The Leaky Cauldron.

The problem with asking for help would be that she would actually have to admit to them that after all of these years she'd finally given in to Kenneth Towler. She didn't think she would survive the lectures. Her only female friend she could trust to not tease her or berate her for her choice was more likely to weave grasses in her hair or make her wear vegetables as jewelry. Luna was wonderful for advice in many areas. Fashion was definitely not one of them.

Thorfinn's words from the night before resounded in her brain. Rolling her eyes and fighting the urge to laugh again, Hermione dug into the very back of her wardrobe. It took her a minute or two to find the sapphire blue dress she bought two years earlier on a whim. She'd never had the guts to wear the stunning sheath dress. It was too tight and ended just an inch or two above her knees. She wished she had the confidence to pull it off.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Hermione dropped her bathrobe and pulled the dress on over her head. Feeling like a complete idiot but wanting to step out of her painfully lonely comfort zone, she stepped into a high pair of black heels Ginny once gave her years earlier in a futile attempt to make her over. She was nervous to move into view of the full length mirror in her bedroom. The shrill catcalls emanating from the magic mirror made her cheeks flush bright red.

"It's about time you wore something to show off your enviable figure, dear."

She felt like a fool thanking her mirror for the almost backhanded compliment.

"Be sure to charm your legs with a warming charm, dear."

Hermione took the mirror's unsolicited advice. It was freezing outside after all. Her clock showed she only had a few minutes to walk to her Apparition point in the alley behind her building. A knot began to twist itself in her stomach. She tried to ignore the foreboding feeling. With her heavy coat fastened securely on top of her never-worn dress, she slipped out of her apartment.

Kenneth was already waiting for her inside the Ministry Atrium. She found herself both nervous and anxious to get the date over with. Her date was all smiles. It was a shame really that they had such an annoying history. If she hadn't known him since she was eleven she might have actually been interested in the wizard. He was tall and fairly handsome. At only thirty years old he had already had a very successful career within the Ministry. There were many who believed that in fifteen or twenty years he would be a serious contender for the position of Minister. On paper, he was almost perfect. Too bad she had too many memories of him pulling her hair and making a general nuisance of himself during school. It also didn't help that she was annoyed by his overzealous invitations since she started working.

Her date offered his arm that she reluctantly took. Already it was impossible to convince herself that this was simply a dinner between two coworkers to discuss work. Once outside past the anti-Apparition wards, Kenneth Apparated them to a familiar corner of Diagon Alley.

"Damn, I'd hoped to get us closer to the restaurant. I'm sorry," Kenneth apologized, his cheeks blushing slightly.

"It's all right," she replied even though she was secretly annoyed. "There are warming charms all over the Alley in winter. The walk shouldn't be too cold."

Neither of them knew what to say during the walk to the restaurant. They filled the silence with inane comments about the shops they passed or about the weather. Hermione sincerely hoped that she wouldn't be stuck with hours of awkward, stilted conversation.

"I've never been here before," she announced when Kenneth opened the door to the restaurant.

"You're in for a treat then," he replied, a bright smile on his face.

Her date helped her out of her coat to hand over to the waiting hostess. She felt suddenly embarrassed by the attention when it was obvious that his eyes were noticing the way the dress clung to her curves and showed off her toned legs. Thorfinn wasn't wrong. She did have nice legs that she was actually quite proud of. Kenneth scanned her figure with an appreciative eye.

"You look beautiful, Hermione," he whispered as they were being led to their table.

They were seated in the back of the quiet restaurant in darkened corner. It was the kind of place that couples in love liked to sit where they could freely touch and kiss their date. Hermione's arm brushed against Kenneth's when they sat down. A memory of the night that she brushed against Thorfinn's sleeve popped into her mind. She felt her cheeks warm. Kenneth chuckled, no doubt thinking he was responsible for her blushing.

Kenneth tried very hard to impress his date. He had a thorough conversation with the server about the wine selection proving that he knew a lot about picking the right wine. After asking her what she wanted to order before the waiter returned to the table, he even ordered for her in passable French. Hermione hated every moment.

They were in the middle of their entrees when the subject of the position in the Goblin Liaison Office finally came up. She was relieved they were no longer forced to relive 'Kenneth's Greatest Moments' from birth to early that morning. At least speaking about work gave her an opportunity to contribute to the conversation. She hated being stuck in one-sided discussions.

"One of our well-respected members of the office will be retiring soon," he announced, refilling her glass for the third or fourth time. She'd already lost count. The wizard actually _did_ know how to pick a fine wine. "The goblins prefer those who stay long-term. Most of those in that office have been there for decades. Does that bother you?"

"Staying in one place for a long time?" she asked. He nodded. "Not at all. I enjoy and prefer stability."

"Excellent. I thought it would be best to consider a younger candidate for the job."

He stared at her without speaking for a few moments. Hermione felt the temperature in her cheeks rise at the attention. Somehow he had the ability to make her feel like he knew what she looked like under her blue dress.

"I'll be honest with you, Hermione. Even if you'd said 'no' to dinner tonight I was already considering you for the position."

"Oh."

She polished off the rest of her glass of wine due to sheer nerves. Kenneth smiled in an attempt to put her at ease. He didn't waste a moment in filling her glass again. They were about to finish their second bottle of wine so expensive Hermione didn't even want to imagine how much this dinner was going to cost.

"Before this goes any further, you are aware that ten years ago this May I robbed Gringotts with Harry and Ron?"

Kenneth laughed. This was a familiar story in the lore of the Second Wizarding War. It was the story most often requested when Hermione found herself in a position to recall her war stories.

"Yes, I'm aware. That's actually hard to forget. When I was meeting with several of the goblins last week who are well-respected in their community, I brought that up."

"You've already spoken to the goblins about me?"

His answering smile was warm. She almost felt guilty about all of the times she had been rude to him over the years. _Almost_.

"Of course. I met with them to go over a list of potential candidates to get their feedback. Overwhelmingly, they seemed to prefer your name."

She couldn't believe what he was saying. Surely he was just trying to humor her. There was simply no way that she was going to believe that the goblins actually wanted her in a position where they would be forced to interact with her on a regular basis. No doubt they hated her for that ridiculous day in May that almost ended in her death and the deaths of her two best friends.

"Even after I robbed their sacred institution that resulted in the escape of their dragon and several of their deaths at Voldemort's hands?"

"Apparently the goblins weren't too impressed with how wizardkind handled the last war. They are almost unanimously of the opinion that they were willing to look past the robbery, assuming, of course, that you never do so again, because of the bravery and fortitude you showed in taking You Know Who on directly. They seemed to believe that you would be willing to fight on their behalf if need be against the Ministry."

It was Hermione's turn to laugh. Of course she would be willing to fight against the Ministry. It was an institution that wasn't always known for making the best decisions. She'd already been an enemy of it when she was on the run with Harry. The past eight years working within its walls hadn't been easy either. She was the champion of the downtrodden creature and the lover of hopeless causes. If there was a chance that she thought the goblins were being trampled on by wizards, she would definitely be on their side.

"I really appreciate you considering me, Kenneth."

"I really appreciate you finally saying 'yes' to having dinner with me, Hermione."

The rest of their dinner passed in fairly pleasant conversation. With the tension broken they were actually able to enjoy each other's company. They discussed what their lives had been like since they left Hogwarts, what their experiences with the Ministry had been, even briefly about past relationships. She was surprised to find herself actually enjoying the rest of the meal. The third bottle of wine certainly didn't hurt matters.

Kenneth gladly paid the bill at the end of the meal. Hermione wanted to peek at the final tally, but he had the check in hand before she even had a chance. Wizards could be very old fashioned. Once they were wrapped back up in their heavy coats and outside the restaurant, he Apparated them back to the Ministry.

"Thank you for dinner, Kenneth," she said just outside the door to the employee entrance.

"You're very welcome, Hermione. I hope we can do it again soon."

He hadn't dropped hold of her hand since their Side-Along. She wondered how she would be able to take it back without seeming too rude.

"Would you like me to see you safely back to your flat?"

"No, thank you. I actually left something up in my office that I need to get."

It was a lie, but she didn't care.

"Would you like me to come up with you? The building can be creepy at night."

"Thank you, Kenneth, but I will be all right."

His thumb was stroking circles into her hand. He leaned down to place a soft kiss on her cheek. Her hand was dropped and with a wish for a good evening, Kenneth Disapparated to his own home. All in all, he had been a perfect gentleman. Hermione was surprised and more than just a little confused by his behavior. She expected him to be disgusting. Maybe annoying.

The wine had gone straight to her head. She should've gone straight home to a comfortable bed, but she couldn't bear the thought of being alone. Maybe it was time to get a new cat or a dog. Or a man. Despite the wine coursing through her bloodstream, she wanted something stronger.

There was a popular Muggle pub only a block away from the Ministry. She'd been there a few dozen times over the years. Mostly for happy hours after she left the office. A few times she used to meet some of her witch friends there who found venturing out into the Muggle world interesting and exotic. There was nothing special about the dingy pub. It had definitely seen better years.

She found an empty seat at the bar. It had been awhile since she'd last been in, but it seemed that literally nothing had changed. The bartender took her order for his strongest martini only moments after she sat down. She was sipping the delectable cocktail only a minute or so later. Sometimes it helped to be a pretty girl in a bar.

"You here all by yourself?" a stranger slurred too close to her face.

And then other times it was a detriment. Especially if she was alone and the other patrons of the establishment had been drinking a lot longer than she had. Two men smelling strongly of lager and other smells she didn't really want to decipher stood on either side of her at the bar effectively pinning her in to her seat. One of them actually had the audacity to put his fleshy arm around her shoulder.

"Please leave me alone, gentlemen," she begged, shrugging the arm off.

"Think you're too good for us, do you?"

They were starting to cause a scene. She wished she hadn't thought it was a good idea to drop in for a drink. There was an entire bottle of gin waiting for her in her flat. She might've been in a silent flat, but no malodorous drunks would be hanging all over her. It was a sin to waste good liquor according to her mother. In that instance, she didn't care. She was willing to leave her almost full cocktail behind for the opportunity to flee.

"Please excuse me."

Neither of the men budged. She twirled back around on her bar stool to catch the eye of the bartender. Maybe he would be willing to assist. That was part of his job. All at once she sensed an additional large presence directly behind her. Every muscle in her body tensed, fearing that they were joined by another bothersome drunk.

"Sorry, mates, but she's with me."

She spun around to come face to face with a smirking Thorfinn. When their eyes met, she smiled back and he winked.

"Come on, Princess. I've found us a table."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Hermione accepted Thorfinn's outstretched hand to assist her off of the high barstool. She felt her cheeks grow warm when she realized the end of her coat was no longer covering her bare knees. At some point in the few minutes she'd been sitting, the end of her coat had ridden up to her mid-thigh. Based on the appreciative smirk on Thorfinn's face he didn't seem to mind the exposed flesh.

"You're late," she admonished him, seeking some way to get his gaze off of the inches of skin above her knees.

"Sorry, love," he said, playing along. "Hope you weren't waiting too long."

The obnoxious drunks quickly tripped over their own tongues in a rush to apologize. Thorfinn easily towered over both of them by several inches. Dressed in Muggle attire that actually fit his muscular frame better than the robes he was forced to wear at the Ministry, he cut a pretty intimidating figure. He ignored their comments, seeming to only have the ability to bestow attention on Hermione. She felt ill at ease with so much notice.

Thorfinn knocked the pest who dared to actually touch Hermione out of the way of the bar with his large arm to reach for Hermione's martini. The man wasted no time in moving to the opposite end of the bar where he couldn't be _accidentally_ struck again. His mate followed soon after. With Hermione's drink held firmly in his left hand, Thorfinn placed his right in the small of Hermione's back. Surprised by the physical touch, she tensed and threatened to jump out of her own skin. Thorfinn simply chuckled as he guided her to an empty table in the back.

She tried to sit immediately in the first open chair for no other reason than she wanted his hand off of her as soon as possible. He made her nervous, nervous in a much different way than he had ten years earlier. Before Hermione could sit, Thorfinn placed her drink in the middle of the table and began trying to pull her unbuttoned coat off of her shoulders. It was instinct that made her grab the two lapels of her coat and try to hold them together.

"It's stifling in here, Hermione," Thorfinn said, his breath tickling the back of her neck.

"Fine."

She tried to ignore the goosebumps erupting all over her body at his extreme proximity. Thorfinn deftly removed the coat, careful not to pull her arms too hard in the process. He laid the garment across the back of one of the empty chairs before taking the seat directly opposite from his companion. Hermione sat down in her chair as quickly as possible. She didn't care for the way she felt when Thorfinn's eyes brazenly surveyed her body while she stood.

"Was that really necessary?" she demanded, her earlier irritation returning.

"Was what necessary?" He wasn't even trying to hide his damnable smirk at her obvious discomfort.

"Back there. I had everything under control."

Thorfinn snorted, obviously not buying what she was selling.

"How much longer before you started hexing their bits off, Princess?"

She sputtered in indignation. How dare he assume that she couldn't handle himself around a couple of drunken idiots? She had plenty of practice.

"Right. That's what I thought. You were seconds away from violating a very important section of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy just now. I saved you from a team full of Obliviators descending on this quaint little pub and at least a month or two in Azkaban."

It was Hermione's turn to snort. He wasn't offended. Simply smirked that irritating smirk of his that made his blue eyes twinkle. She hadn't noticed the flecks of silver… _Get yourself together, Granger!_

"Azkaban wasn't what my dear old great-great-great, bugger I can never remember how many fucking greats, grandfather designed it to be, but it's still bloody awful."

She hated that historical anecdotes piqued her curiosity.

"Your ancestor designed Azkaban?" Damn it, she was curious.

"Afraid so," Thorfinn answered. "Damocles Rowle, one of the least liked Ministers for Magic in our society's humble history. He was the one who decided they should house the prison in Azkaban and use the dementors as guards. Everyone told him not to, but he did it anyway. He was eventually censured by the International Confederation of Wizards. Stepped down in disgrace."

"I never knew any of that."

"Oh, did the big, scary Death Eater actually teach the nosy, little swot something she didn't know?"

His smirk was replaced with a full-fledged smile that made Hermione's stomach lurch. She'd seen that smile on many occasions, rarely any pleasant. She hated how uneasy the man made her. Determined not to let him continue to unnerve her, Hermione brought the conversation back to her earlier annoyance.

"I wasn't about to hex anyone," she insisted. "Why are you even here? This is a _Muggle_ pub."

Thorfinn shrugged his shoulders before answering.

"Saw you walk in when I was on my way home."

"What, are you stalking me now? I don't see you enough at work?"

His loud, booming laughter temporarily startled all of the pub's patrons, Hermione especially. He rose from the table begging her to excuse him for a moment and headed towards the bar. When he returned just a couple of minutes later, he had a pint in each hand.

"I already have a drink," she said, immediately hating how ungrateful she sounded.

"No, these are both for me," Thorfinn answered with a wink. "You've got a head start on me if your flushed cheeks are any indication. I'm going to try to catch up."

"Then you should've started drinking at four," she muttered, hoping too late that he didn't hear.

If he heard her remark, he had enough grace to pretend he didn't. They sat in silence each sipping at their own drinks for a few awkward minutes before Hermione realized he never answered her question. Just laughed and made an excuse to vacate the table immediately. She understood he didn't want to be honest with her and that made her very curious indeed.

"So are you stalking me or what?"

"No," he answered. "I told you, I saw you walk in when I was on my way home. You realize this is a pretty dangerous neighborhood, right?"

"I've never had any problems."

"Yes, well, I'm sure you can take care of yourself, Princess, but if the sirens and shouts I hear every night walking back to my flat from the Ministry are any indication, you've been lucky."

She didn't know what to say to his revelation. Was he admitting to being worried that something terrible might happen to her if left alone? _Surely not_.

"Bit surprised to see you alone actually," he continued. "Want to tell me about your tragic date?"

She rolled her eyes which only made him laugh.

"Who said my date was tragic?" she asked, her irritation steadily rising. "Maybe I had a lovely date."

"Then why are you drinking alone?"

Hermione tried to think of a suitable response that wouldn't make her evening sound terribly pathetic. Before she could think of anything, Thorfinn spoke again.

"Any date that doesn't end with those gorgeous thighs of yours resting on someone's shoulders is a tragedy."

Her cheeks blushed crimson and she wanted to melt under the table. How did this horrible man have such an effect on her? Deciding to not be offended (because she discovered she really wasn't when she stopped to think about it), she picked up a pretzel from a bowl on the table. It hit him perfectly in the middle of his broad chest. His laughter was infectious and despite herself, Hermione soon found herself joining right in.

"Maybe I only go out on dates with men who are perfect gentlemen."

"Where's the fun in that? Glad you took my advice by the way."

He winked at her again. _Did he never get tired of that?_ Hermione pretended she didn't know what he was talking about but her reddened cheeks gave her away. She hated the effect he had on her. It was infuriating.

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," she lied.

"Love the dress. I knew I was right about your legs," he teased. "I hope your date appreciated how good you look tonight."

Hermione blushed thinking about the way Kenneth's eyes darkened when he saw her without her coat on. He had noticed and even complimented her on it too. She wasn't used to that level of attention from anyone. Thorfinn's eyes continued to rake over her form only adding to her discomfort.

"The only part I don't like is your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?" she demanded, feeling insulted. It had taken her over an hour to tame her usual mass of bushy curls. She'd been rather pleased with the results.

"I like the way you normally wear your hair. You always look like you've just been shagged. It's hot."

"Are you always this disgusting or is it just my lucky day?"

Thorfinn laughed and knocked back the last of his first pint. He'd swallowed more than half of the second before he responded to her question. His desire to catch up with her seemed genuine.

"Don't try to play the offended prude with me, Princess. You're not convincing."

"Excuse me?"

"Just what I said. Everyone else might buy into this whole purity act of yours, but I don't. I can sense a wildcat."

"I don't have a 'purity act'," she retorted. "Everyone just either assumes I'm some kind of whore or a virgin ice queen."

She didn't expect him to start laughing but she realized it didn't upset her as much as she thought it would. For years it seemed that everyone had their own opinion about her. None of them were wholly accurate. It was frustrating. Rita Skeeter used to write articles about her on a fairly regular basis accusing her of using illegal spells and potions to trap influential wizards. Her loved ones, especially Harry, seemed to believe she was some innocent dove that needed protection from male libidos and naughty language. They were all wrong. She was somewhere in the middle.

"'Virgin Ice Queen'? Did someone actually call you that?"

"Unfortunately, yes. My boss actually just yesterday."

"Sounds like a tosser."

"Oh, he is."

They went back to sipping on their drinks without speaking for a short time. Hermione couldn't believe the amount of alcohol she'd consumed that day. There was no doubt she was going to regret every drop in the morning. She had already been past tipsy and well on to pissed before she'd entered the pub. With the last drops of her martini warming her stomach she knew she should stop before her unaccustomed system made her sick,

Thorfinn stood up from their table the moment he finished his drink. Hermione watched him cross the crowded pub to stand up front. He leaned up against the bar to wait patiently for the bartender's attention. Hermione used the opportunity to examine the man without his knowledge. She turned the tables to examine him in the same way he'd openly examined her multiple times already that night.

He really hadn't changed much since he was a seventh year. Perhaps only gotten even bigger. Back then she was terrified every time he found her in the castle or somewhere on the grounds. Thorfinn was a tenacious bully. Sometimes she wondered if he used to wake up each morning and decide how he was going to torment her for the day. Not once did he ever physically harm her during his attacks. Nor used magic against her. No, Thorfinn had a brutal way with words that used to make her cry. Too often he would say something truly foul that would make her run off and hide in one of her many hiding places. She'd gotten to learn all of the private places good for crying before the end of her first year. She had been very thankful for the end of the year when he left Hogwarts for good.

Once during her sixth year she saw him at a distance in Hogsmeade. She wasn't sure if he saw her, but it was enough of a jolt to cause her to run back to the castle without Harry and Ron. They never knew how mean he used to be. When she realized who the two workmen were in the damned café, she lost all control of her own body. Every movement she made was due to her instincts taking over. The two Death Eaters she feared more than any others were standing next to each other hurling curses in her direction. It was the stuff of her nightmares. Facing him at Hogwarts hadn't been as terrifying as she thought it should have been. Of course by that time she'd already narrowly escaped Nagini and the arrival of Voldemort with Harry in Godric's Hollow, been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, physically and verbally assaulted by Fenrir Greyback, broken into Gringotts, stolen a dragon, ridden the dragon's back and survived a room filled with fiendfyre. Her duel with Thorfinn had been fairly anti-climactic at that point.

She blamed the alcohol for her mind betraying her true thoughts about the man's impressive physique. Even as she remembered how much he used to frighten her as a young girl, she was surveying every inch. She hated that she found him attractive. Part of her always had. She was noticing the way that his trousers fit him as he leaned over to speak to the bartender in the noisy room. Her eyes betrayed her when he turned around abruptly with drinks in both hands. He smirked over the heads of the other patrons.

"See something you like?" he teased.

Hermione grabbed one of his pints for something to keep her mouth occupied. He just laughed and sat back down in his chair. She didn't like the way he was staring at her as if he could see what she looked like naked. It was discomforting and unsettling.

"So why'd your boss call you that?" he asked, moving the conversation back to what they were discussing before he left.

"Oddly enough, that's not the worst name he's ever called me," she answered. "He's paranoid about my relationship with the Department Head which is funny because tonight was the first time I've ever seen him outside of the office in a social setting."

"Your date was with your Department Head?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed for what had to have been the hundredth time that evening.

"Yes, well, we were discussing a job promotion. He's fancied me since I was eleven. Kind of sad really. I couldn't stand him in school and don't much like him now."

"Then why go on a date with him?"

"He kind of caught me off-guard. I didn't mean to say yes. But anyway, he was in my office yesterday to confirm the details of tonight and Matthew saw him leave. Demanded to know what he was talking to me about. I told him that I didn't always have to tell him what Kenneth and I talked about. Maybe we were discussing the torrid affair we were going to start and deciding which desk to shag on first."

Thorfinn laughed, strangely putting her at ease again.

"Then he said that the day the virgin ice queen let someone slither between her thighs he'd snap his wand and go live amongst the Muggles."

"Yeah, definitely a tosser."

"He doesn't think a lot about you either," she added. "I eavesdropped on a conversation he was having with Zacharias Smith yesterday."

"Pompous wanker," Thorfinn muttered.

Hermione couldn't help but start laughing at his response. It was likely the alcohol. That entire evening was one alcohol-infused moment after another. In a sober state she wouldn't have allowed Thorfinn Rowle to lead her to a private table in a Muggle pub. She was acting completely out of character.

"That's _exactly_ what I called him when I saw him," she chuckled. "I hate that guy."

"So do I."

"He had some fairly strong opinions about you. What did you do? Kill his grandmother? Torture his puppy?"

"Much _much_ worse, I'm afraid."

He was smiling at her, but it wasn't the same happy smile from earlier when he was teasing. There was a hint of pain behind the grimace.

"I'm afraid that I've committed the unspeakable crime of being the older brother of the woman he married," Thorfinn answered, the smile absent from his face.

His younger sister Reina was a Hufflepuff a year older than Hermione. She'd been the exact opposite of her older brother. If they didn't look so much alike no one would've believed they were even related. At least the knowledge that Reina married Zacharias Smith made the conversation she'd overheard the day before make some sense. She wasn't surprised that the Hufflepuff arsehole was concerned about his brother-in-law being out of Azkaban.

"He was very unhappy to hear you've been released," Hermione said.

"Yeah, well, that's not surprising, I'm afraid. He was never very supportive of Reina coming to visit me in Azkaban. After they got married seven years ago her visits dropped from every two weeks to once a month. By the time my first niece was born, her visits dwindled down to about every three or four months. Then it was maybe once or twice a year after my second niece was born. I haven't spoken to her since I made parole."

"You're an uncle?"

Thorfinn's entire demeanor changed at the question. A bright smile flashed across his features. He reached into his pocket to pull out a folded photograph. It had obviously been cherished for quite some time. Hermione carefully removed it from his hand. A woman, obviously Reina, was sitting on some stairs holding a little girl about a year old in her lap while another little girl about three years old waved and laughed at the camera next to her. She was cautious not to smudge or damage the photograph when she handed it back. Thorfinn stared at it for a few moments before stowing it back in his pocket.

"They're beautiful," Hermione said.

"Thank Merlin they look just like their mum," he replied. "It's a couple of years old. Lucy is now five and Amelia is three. I've only ever seen them in pictures. Their pompous wanker of a father never wanted them to come to Azkaban. Can't really blame him, but it would've been nice to get to hold them when they were babies."

"Look at you, the proud uncle. Never would've expected you had a soft side."

Thorfinn snorted into his glass. They both seemed relieved by the break in the tension. Their discussion was getting just a bit too serious. She decided to change the subject to hopefully less upsetting topics.

"You said you were walking home when you saw me. You live around here?"

"Afraid so. Shitehole of a flat too. It's truly awful, but it's cheap and I can walk to my exciting job at the Ministry." He added a wink to his last comment.

"What do you do there besides mopping floors?" She'd been very curious how he spent his hours in the building.

"That's it," he answered. "I arrive at six and start by mopping the floors in Level Ten. My supervisor thinks it's funny to have me start off with the courtrooms. Remind me that I'm Death Eater scum right from the beginning each day. Takes me about two hours to do that level. I've timed all of the others to only take half an hour except for Level One. That takes two hours as well. Less carpet than the other levels. I do that one last from one to three. The other levels I do as I please. I've found lately that I like to do Level Four from nine until half-past. Cute witch likes to work late on that level."

His damnable wink made her laugh. She suspected that he'd been coming to her level specifically when she was still there. The first night he saw her was most likely an accident, but every night since she was certain he was there on purpose.

"Mopping? That's it?"

"Sadly. It's not the most intellectually stimulating occupation, but it does give me time to think. I haven't had enough time to think locked up in a prison cell alone for the past ten years."

"Why do you have to do it the Muggle way? Surely you could be put to better use if you could clean the floors with magic."

Thorfinn pulled his left sleeve up his arm. Hermione's eyes were drawn to the tiniest bit of his faded Dark Mark peeking out. He caught her staring at the evidence of his past mistakes. Clearing his throat and attempting to not make it obvious he was uncomfortable with her staring, he pulled his sleeve down a few inches, leaving only the silver ring on his wrist visible.

"I've been neutered," he attempted to joke. "This ring keeps my magic bound. As a condition of my parole I'm required to wear it for the first two years. If I'm a good boy, they will take it off and I get to use a monitored wand for the next five years."

"So you're stuck living in the Muggle world without any magic?"

"Yeah, I'm not allowed to even use the Floo or a portkey."

"Can you Side-Along with someone?"

"Why, Princess? Is that an invitation back to your place?"

She giggled, hating how the alcohol was muddling her brain and embarrassed by the cheeks she was certain were bright red. She really was just asking because she was curious, not because she wanted to Apparate him back to her cold and empty bedroom.

"Like I would ever let you anywhere near my home," she said, suppressing another snort.

"Oh, do you not have any floors that need mopping? I'm very good."

"Mostly carpet, I'm afraid. How are you with a vacuum?"

"I don't even know what that is, Princess." He laughed and leaned over the table close enough to whisper in her ear. "Surely you can think of something else I could do in your flat. Something just a bit more _enjoyable_."

Hermione excused herself from the table to visit the loo. She could feel his eyes on her every step of the way. Once inside the safety of the ladies room, she took her time attempting to compose herself. She didn't know why he had such an effect on her, but it was obnoxious. Her features were still flushed from the thinly veiled suggestion he'd whispered into her ear at the table. Part of her hated herself for actually entertaining the idea of bringing him back to her flat and seeing what happened. How could her opinion of him changed so drastically in less than a week?

"It's the alcohol, Granger," she said to her reflection in the mirror. "Just the alcohol. Stop drinking. Better yet, go home."

"If I was here with your man, we would have already gone home," giggled the lady at the mirror next to her.

She didn't even try to prevent the unattractive scowl from marring her features. The stranger washing her hands just laughed at her expression.

"The big guy can't keep his eyes off you," she continued.

Hermione stared at the swinging door after the woman who couldn't mind her own business exited the room. She took a deep breath, checked her reflection in the mirror one last time and stepped back out into the congested room. Her gait was a little bit wobbly. The heels she forced herself to wear had been a bad choice as far as walking while intoxicated. It didn't help that the moment she stepped through the doorway of the main room that she felt a pair of eyes concentrated in her direction. She kept her eyes just a few feet ahead of her as she walked back to the table. Partially out of fear that she was going to trip over her own feet and partially because she didn't think she could cope with his undivided attention.

Thorfinn rose to pull her chair out for her when she finally made it back across the room. She appreciated the gesture, but felt unnerved by all of the attention. In her lengthy absence he'd replenished their empty drinks at the bar. Hermione wrapped her hand around her glass, tracing patterns in the condensation clinging to the outside.

"What were you doing this evening before you headed home?" She asked because she wanted a safe, neutral subject to get her mind off of the implied proposition he'd made before she escaped to hide in the loo.

"Enjoying my first evening out in the Muggle world," he answered. "There's a pretty girl who lives in the flat above mine. I asked her what I should do and she suggested the sim… sin… cinnamon?"

Hermione snorted. He was adorable and he wasn't even trying.

"Cinema?" she suggested.

"Yeah, that's it. Interesting place. Saw something with lots of explosions and blood. A bit violent really."

"Some of them are."

"I'm learning more and more about Muggles every day. My neighbor is going to teach me how to laundry tomorrow."

Imagining the Death Eater using a Muggle washer and dryer made Hermione burst out into loud laughter. She had an image of Thorfinn measuring out the proper amount of detergent and then another one of pulling all of his shrunken clothes out of the dryer. Tears of mirth were prickling the corners of her eyes before she calmed down enough to speak again. He simply sat back watching her laugh with a satisfied grin.

"How did you explain to your new neighbor, the cute one I assume, that you're in your late-thirties and have never done laundry?"

"Oi! I'm thirty-five. That's not late-thirties. It's very solidly _mid_ -thirties."

"My apologies. How did you explain that you are in your _mid_ -thirties and you've never done your own laundry?"

"Told her I was going through a very contentious divorce. She seemed to sympathize. You're Muggle born. Is laundry hard?"

His worried expression just about did Hermione in. She fought the urge to laugh at him because somehow she understood that wasn't the proper time. He seemed strangely vulnerable in that moment. She could understand. Just as she had when she was eleven years old, he was living in a world he didn't fully comprehend.

"No, it's not hard. Just listen to your teacher. She probably has a hell of a lot more experience with it than I do," she answered. "I haven't done laundry in the Muggle way since before I started my sixth year at Hogwarts."

"Do you forgive me now?" Thorfinn asked, throwing her off-guard. Hermione didn't understand what she was supposed to be forgiving him for. There were a lot of options.

"For what?"

"Following you in here and stopping you from hexing those arseholes?"

"Oh." Not what she was expecting. "Well, I still maintain that I had everything under control and didn't need help."

He wasn't convinced, but didn't push her any further. Hermione drained the last of her pint. She wasn't going to be able to handle any more to drink. A quick glance at a clock on the wall showed the time to be just after midnight. She could hardly believe that she'd willingly just spent almost three hours in the company of a paroled Death Eater who used to bully her in school. Thorfinn followed her lead to finish the last of his drink too.

"I should really get home. It's late," she declared, standing up from the table.

"I'll walk you to the alley so you can Apparate."

"That's not necessary."

"Princess, I wasn't exaggerating when I said this was a rough neighborhood. I'm coming with you whether you like it or not."

"Fine."

She pulled her coat on and headed straight to the door. Thorfinn was only steps behind. The freezing night air felt refreshing against her flushed cheeks. As soon as the air hit her, however, her body fully realized how much alcohol she'd actually consumed. She stumbled over her feet and would've fallen flat onto the pavement if Thorfinn hadn't been able to grab her arm in time.

"Careful, Princess. Are you going to be able to make it home all right? I'd hate for you to splinch yourself in the process."

"I'll be fine. It's not too far to travel."

"You sure?"

"Are you trying to subtly invite me back to your awful flat, Rowle?"

They arrived in the dark, empty alley. His hand was still holding her arm. She suddenly realized how close they were standing. The massive wizard stared down at her with a cheeky grin on his face.

"I don't make invitations until I'm certain they will be accepted," he replied.

"Oh."

"Good night, Princess. Try to make it home in one piece."

He ran his hand gently up her arm before releasing his grip. She took a deep breath and Disapparated home.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: I cannot believe the positive reception this story has gotten! Thank you so much! It may take me a little while before I come back to update this story. I'm trying to get_ The Dark Mage's Captive _completed. This story has been a wonderful distraction as that story has gotten pretty dark. Please be patient if it takes me a little while to update this again. I promise that this will be my primary story once TDMC is complete. Enjoy!_

Chapter Five

Sunday

She only woke up because of the insistent tapping on her bedroom window. An owl she didn't recognize was determined to wake her up and finish his delivery. Hermione found herself lying completely dressed on top of her bedcovers. She hadn't even removed her shoes. How she managed to make it to her bed was beyond her understanding. Honestly, how she managed to make it home to her flat in one piece without splinching herself was another mystery.

Rising from the crumpled bed, she struggled to put one foot in front of the other. The short journey to her bedroom window seemed to take an eternity. Once the bird was relieved of its message, it spread its wings out, clipping Hermione in the side of the head in the process, and took off soaring through the cool winter air. She was half-tempted to throw the small rolled piece of parchment after the damn bird. Whoever had an ill-tempered bird like that didn't deserve her prompt reply.

 _Miss Granger,_

 _I would very much like the opportunity to conduct an exclusive interview with you. Please contact me directly at the Daily Prophet offices as soon as possible. It is very important that you be given the opportunity to express the truth before others distort the facts._

 _Sincerely,_

 _R. Almeidas_

 _Correspondent, Daily Prophet_

She didn't even waste another moment contemplating the offer before crumpling up the parchment. A quick toss in the air and an _incendio_ erased all traces of its existence. In ten years she had gotten countless requests for exclusive interviews. This was nothing new and certainly nothing that she was interested in. She remembered Roberta Almeidas from a few interviews at the end of the war. Not a bad reporter as far as dreadful reporters went, but she was simply not interested in any new angle to her life story that the witch might have been contemplating. There wasn't anything interesting enough in her life to warrant yet another interview.

A long, hot shower was necessary for Hermione to feel human again. Just as she expected the night before, she was more hungover than she could remember being in years. Not since she and her boys stumbled upon Sirius' hidden stash of fire whiskey when they were hiding in Grimmauld Place before she accidentally revealed their hiding place to Yaxley. They'd been terrified and without adult supervision in the presence of mass amounts of alcohol. Thankfully there had been enough empty bathrooms in that crumbling, old mansion that none of them had to share when they inevitably were forced to empty the contents of their underfed stomachs.

The moment the hot water struck Hermione she moaned. There were few experiences that she had to look forward to in her solitary existence. Standing alone under the stream of her showerhead without being forced to listen to complaints that she was using up all of the hot water was one of them. A million years earlier when she was in her embarrassingly short relationship with Ron, they had row after row about her taking too long in the shower. _Wonder what Thorfinn's opinion of long showers are._

"Stop, Granger," she ordered herself out loud.

 _Does he prefer his showers alone or with a bit of company?_

"Seriously, stop, Granger," she whined.

When her mind inevitably wandered to imagining what Thorfinn would look like standing in her shower, Hermione leaned her forehead against the cool tiles of her shower wall and groaned. She didn't want her mind to betray her like that. Yes, she'd spent a few surprisingly enjoyable hours in his company, but that was all it was. They had an interesting conversation. She hoped that they were going to be able to move on with their lives, moving past their unpleasant history. None of that meant she should start fantasizing about streams of hot water running down his defined abdominal muscles or how easily those massive arms of his could pick her petite frame up to hold against the tiles while he…

"You have got to find a shag, Granger."

 _Yes, and there's a certain burly blonde who would be up to the task._

She began gently knocking her head against the wall in an effort to knock some sense in her addled brain? Dispel all fantasies that were currently causing a pleasant swirling sensation in her belly? Her mind went back to the previous evening when he accused her of trying to invite him back to her flat.

 _"Surely you can think of something else I could do in your flat. Something just a bit more_ enjoyable _."_

Oh, she had plenty of ideas if her currently filthy mind was any indication. Her cheeks felt flushed at the mere thought of having Thorfinn in her flat. There were several surfaces she thought it might be interesting to try.

She finished her shower as quickly as possible as images of being bent over the back of her sofa flooded her mind. How would she ever look the wizard in the eye again without expiring on the spot from humiliation? At least his being prevented from using magic for two years was a blessing in disguise if he ever knew anything about Legilimency. She shuddered in horror at the thought of him reading her thoughts and seeing the ever increasingly inappropriate daydreams she'd been having.

The clock on her dresser showed the time to be after one when she finally exited her steamy bathroom. She was expected at the Weasleys at half-past for a late lunch. No one in that entire family was an early riser. They all enjoyed a lie-in on Sundays. It was a trait that Hermione didn't have in common with them. If she hadn't passed out from an ungodly amount of alcohol the night before, she would've been awake well before the sunrise.

She rushed around her flat to find something appropriate to wear. Everyone who knew her from Hogwarts would've been surprised by the state of her home. She liked order and cleanliness once upon a time, but lately she'd been a bit too relaxed. It also didn't help that she worked too long hours. If she got the position in the Goblin Liaison Office she was certain the dirty laundry and half-read books strewn all over the place would only get worse. Satisfied with her attire (there really wasn't much to choose from until she did laundry), she charmed her hair dry and exited her messy home.

Even standing outside of the rickety gate leading to the Burrow, Hermione could hear the cacophonous sound of a typical Weasley gathering the moment her feet hit the ground. With ten grandchildren, eleven if one counted little Teddy Lupin which Molly and Arthur certainly did, the entire family in one place could be a bit jarring if their guests were not used to them. She might have been avoiding the twenty plus members of the raucous clan, but the noise of their laughter never ceased to put a smile on her face.

"The longer you stand out here, the harder it will be to make yourself finally go in," a voice teased from just inside the garden.

Hermione hadn't realized she was just staring at the door until the rarely heard voice of Charlie Weasley broke her out of her trance. The dragonkeeper was standing, perhaps hiding, behind a rather large hedge on the edge of the whimsical property. She would've walked right past him if he hadn't spoken.

"Is that why you're hiding?" she asked, a bright smile across her features.

Charlie had been her favorite of the brothers since after the war. When her relationship with Ron imploded, Charlie started seeking her out at family dinners and holidays for an ally. They thoroughly enjoyed each other's company. Molly vainly hoped that Hermione would be a good influence on her second eldest son. Maybe even convince him to finally settle down. Molly didn't care which of her sons Hermione married just as long as she picked one of them.

"I'm _not_ hiding," Charlie insisted. "I was waiting for you."

Hermione crossed the garden to the hedge where Charlie insisted he wasn't hiding. The wizard didn't waste a second pulling her into a warm embrace. She always felt so safe and calm in his arms. It was a shame that while they both loved each other, neither of them had ever been able to fall _in love_ with the other. At least never at the same time. Not that there hadn't been opportunities.

"I've missed you, Mine," he whispered into her mess of unruly curls. "You've been avoiding the family and it's been over a year since you last came to visit me in Romania."

To be precise, it had been one year, two months, three weeks and six days. She remembered accurately because that was the last time she'd been in a man's bed. Pathetic, really. She and Charlie had been seeking comfort in each other's arms (and beds) for the past seven years. The first time it happened had been an accident fuelled by too much eggnog and some blasted enchanted mistletoe. There was nothing serious to their relationship although they'd separately wanted more at different times. As it stood, they were simply close friends who were intimate on occasion.

"I haven't been avoiding anyone."

Charlie carefully pushed her a few inches away from his chest to stare down at the woman.

"Tell that lie to someone who will believe it. I know you better than that."

"I've just been really busy at work," she maintained.

"Right, that must be it." He winked at her which only made her laugh. "Anyone ever tell you that you work too hard?"

She rolled her eyes. He laughed.

"Frequently."

"I don't have to be back in Romania until late tomorrow. Want to invite me over to your flat and try to convince me to move back home again?"

His grip on her tightened as his voice lowered. It had been a long time since she last tried to talk him into moving back. One of those times she was half-convinced she was in love with him only because she was so bloody lonely and he was so passionate. Hermione dropped her eyes from his, embarrassed yet again of her behavior.

"Ahh, I see," Charlie laughed, a hint of disappointment evident in his tone despite his best efforts to hide it. "You've got yourself a bloke."

She tried to deny there was anything serious, but Charlie wasn't buying it.

"It's all right," he promised. "I'm happy for you. He better treat you right or I'll feed him to one of my dragons."

She wanted to keep arguing with him that there wasn't anyone special in her life and she would love to try to convince him to move back, but her heart wasn't in the fight. As much as she loved Charlie, she was tired of using him as a crutch. He kissed her once firmly on the lips and began to drag her towards the house by the hand. Before he opened the front door, he winked down at her one more time and smiled.

"I meant what I said, Mine. I only want you to be happy."

Anything she might have said in response was cut off by an exhausted, but thoroughly happy Molly Weasley opening the door. Her eyes moved back and forth between her son and her almost-daughter. Hermione could almost hear her planning their wedding. A warm smile broke out on her lined face and before either of them could protest, they were both pulled into a hug.

"We've been waiting on you both," she gently chastised.

"That was my fault, Mum. Hermione would've been on time but I cornered her in the garden for a nice, long snog."

Hermione snorted and playfully kicked the smirking wizard. Molly beamed as if Christmas had come early. She pulled both of them inside to the magically expanded dining room they'd built on some time after the third or fourth new Weasley.

"Ron, get up and go sit by Fleur," Molly ordered.

When her youngest son rose from the table without stopping to question his mother, Molly forced the two new arrivals into the only two open seats next to each other. Hermione and Charlie could hardly contain their laughter. Everyone else, the adults at least, recognized another attempt at matchmaking. They all had expressions ranging from sympathy to amusement. Once Molly had finally given up on Ron and after George announced his engagement, she spent every opportunity trying to push the two of them together. It was a longstanding family joke.

A dozen different discussions popped up around the exceptionally long table taking the attention away from the late arrivals. Hermione tried to avoid eye contact while she filled her plate with a little bit of everything. Molly was a wonderful cook and she never left the Burrow without eating too much.

"Did you do something you shouldn't have? Something scandalous?" Charlie asked in a whisper.

"Not that I'm aware of. Why?"

"Ginny and Angelina are staring at you."

He wasn't joking. Both Weasley women were focused on Hermione from their seats on the opposite side of the table. None of them were close enough to start a conversation that wouldn't have been possible for the entire family to hear. Their undivided attention was making Hermione nervous. She spent the rest of the meal trying to avoid looking in their direction.

"Hermione, can we speak to you a moment?" Angelina asked the moment everyone started standing up from the table.

"Uhh, sure."

She watched both Ginny and Angelina hand their infant daughters to their husbands before stepping into the kitchen. Both women had a determined expression on their faces that Hermione knew too well. It was what she referred to as their 'meddling' faces. Sighing in resignation for an encounter she was certain she wasn't going to enjoy, she followed them into the heart of the Burrow. Molly zoomed around the room setting the dirty dishes to wash, paying them no mind. The one Weasley daughter and her sister-in-law were seated at the small table used for everyday meals. Hermione reluctantly took a seat across from the busybodies.

"Is there something you would like to tell us?" Ginny asked, her raised eyebrow a clear sign she was not pleased.

Hermione couldn't ever begin to fathom what could have both women so annoyed. It couldn't have been her late entrance with Charlie. Both of them would have been as overjoyed as Molly if there was something between the two.

"I'm not sure what that would be," Hermione answered honestly.

"'Mione, you know we love you no matter what you do, right?" Angelina replied.

"Yes."

"Then can you please tell us just what in the hell you were thinking last night going out in public with _him_?" added Ginny, her frustration evident.

Hermione's stomach dropped at Ginny's question. How could anyone have known that she spent most of the previous evening in the company of a paroled Death Eater? They had been in a Muggle pub for Merlin's sake! _A Muggle pub right by the Ministry_ , she reminded herself.

"Look, I know this must have come as some sort of shock," she began.

"A 'shock'?" repeated Angie. "You getting back together with Ron would've been a shock. This is just…

"Disgusting."

Hermione found herself becoming very defensive at Ginny's choice of words. It was her life after all. She had every right to spend it doing whatever she wanted and with whomever she wanted. She was twenty eight years old. Childhood had been over for many, many years. If she wanted to shag Thorfinn Rowle on top of a table in the middle of The Leaky Cauldron, she had every right to make that decision.

"I disagree, Ginny," she spat. "What I choose to do with my personal time is my business. No one else's!"

Her rant was cut short by a full glass of red wine appearing over her left shoulder. Though the thought of drinking so soon after the night before made her stomach feel a bit queasy, she gratefully accepted the glass. Charlie leaned down to whisper into her ear where the others couldn't hear.

"Thought this might help you with facing the firing squad."

She snorted at his joke and thanked him. Both women were still glaring in her direction. This interrogation wasn't going to be over any time soon. She took a sip of the wine waiting for the explosion she knew what going to happen.

"There are so many other men in this world," Ginny said. "Better men. _Much_ better men."

Charlie raised an inquisitive eyebrow in her direction. Hermione worried that if the wizard knew she had been spotted in a pub with a known Death Eater he would take his sister's and his sister-in-law's side. It had only been drinks! Yes, a little inappropriate banter, but nothing happened. It wasn't as if she'd dug up Voldemort's corpse and gone out dancing.

"Charlie, aren't you concerned about Hermione's horrid taste in dates?" asked Angelina.

He didn't want to get sucked in, but his curiosity kept him from exiting the room in time.

"Hermione is an adult. I trust her decisions."

She could've kissed him for his firm vote of confidence. He tenderly squeezed her shoulder, another show of support. Hermione was grateful to have someone on her side.

"Does the past mean nothing?" Ginny demanded.

"You do remember how horrible he was to you while you were both at Hogwarts together, right?" Angelina reminded her.

As if she could ever _forget_ their time at school together. Of course she wasn't forgetting the past. Obviously no one else was going to allow her to forget it either.

"What's so terrible about this bloke?" Charlie asked with a laugh. "Is he an escaped Death Eater or something?"

Hermione didn't find anything humorous about the situation. No, he wasn't an _escaped_ Death Eater. He had gone through all of the proper channels to be formally paroled. If the Ministry believed him to no longer be a dangerous threat to the point that he worked _for_ them, why couldn't everyone else give him a chance too?

"No, nothing like that," Angelina answered. "Just an annoying git that Hermione could do so much better than."

Angelina's words surprised Hermione. That was certainly not the explanation she expected. She anticipated the entire Weasley clan, spouses and children included, to chastise her for spending a moment alone in a Death Eater's company by choice. Part of her even expected Fred's ghost to pop in to give his own two knuts. Maybe the ghoul in the attic had an opinion too. But to describe Thorfinn Rowle in such innocuous terms as 'annoying git' was astonishing. Hermione was confused.

"Weren't you just recently complaining that he was the only man giving you any sort of positive attention and that we should hex some sense into you if you ever caved and accepted one of his invitations?" asked Ginny.

Hermione sighed in relief. They weren't talking about her night at the pub with Thorfinn. They were harassing her about her date with Kenneth earlier in the evening. At least that one she could explain away easily.

"It was an accident," she explained. "I didn't mean to say 'yes'. Just sort of happened. How do you even know about that anyway?"

Ginny tossed that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet across the table. It was already open to the Society section. Hermione never read that part of the paper if she could help it. She had better things to read than details about Astoria Malfoy's latest garden party or who was the best dressed witch at the benefit for St. Mungo's. It was an asinine section that currently displayed two rather large pictures of her from the night before.

"What the fuck?" she muttered.

"Little ears are everywhere, Hermione," reminded Molly from the sink.

The first photo was taken at some point while she and Kenneth were strolling through Diagon Alley to the restaurant. Her arm was tucked underneath Kenneth's and their heads were close together. She even had a smile on her face. It was obvious to anyone viewing that picture that they were on a date. The second picture only confirmed it further. How did she miss the photographer snapping his camera at the very moment Kenneth was helping her remove her coat at the restaurant? He was captured eye-shagging her with a proud grin on his annoying, but still handsome, face, and she was smiling back at him because he had just complimented her. They looked every inch like a couple in love.

"Wow, you look amazing in that dress, Mine," Charlie said, waggling his eyebrows.

She appreciated his attempt at lightening the mood, but it failed. The short caption under the picture accurately identified them and announced to the world they were dating. _Has One-third of the Golden Trio finally found love?_ Put aside the fact that she _hated_ the term "Golden Trio" with a bloody passion, she was furious that her night out was photographed without her consent. Where had the paparazzi been hiding? Did they have some sort of warning that a famous war heroine was going to be walking down the Alley at that exact moment and then off to dinner? A sudden realization struck her. Kenneth claimed it was an accident that he Apparated them so far away from the restaurant. What if it had all been part of his plan? What if _Kenneth_ was the one that tipped off the photographers?

Hermione laid her head down on the kitchen table. She was completely mortified. What would everyone say at work the next day? Forget any chance of her being promoted to the Goblin Liaison Office. This would constitute a very definite conflict of interest. She would need to talk to Kingsley as soon as possible. When her head began to lightly bounce on the table where she was hitting it, she felt a pair of very familiar hands run through her curls. The welcome sensation made her stop attempting her own slow death by blunt force trauma.

"Come on, love, it's not that bad," Charlie crooned in the same tone he used on sick dragons.

"No, it's worse," she answered, the words muffled by the wood of the table.

"Girls, let's give them a few minutes," Molly ordered, practically dragging Angelina and Ginny into the other room.

Charlie sat down in the chair next to her. He put his arm around her back and pulled her to his chest. She fought the urge to cry. They sat in the kitchen for several minutes without saying a word. Hermione appreciated that they didn't always have to speak. She finally started to feel foolish at being so emotional and sat back up.

"We went out to dinner to talk about a possible promotion," she clarified. "But now I think he was just lying to me. I'm going to be stuck in that fucking office until I die."

She cradled her head in her hands, elbows rested on the worn plank table. Charlie ran his hand up and down her back.

"I think he's responsible for the photographers too."

"Are you positive he was lying?"

"No, but it makes sense. Just dangling the _possibility_ of the new job in front of me got me to agree to go out with him. He's been asking me out for years. Now that it looks like we're a couple, he can't in good conscience recommend me for the job. It would look like I was shagging him to get promoted."

Charlie cleared his throat.

"And _are_ you shagging him?"

Hermione stared at him with fury in her brown eyes. Immediately he wished he hadn't asked. She struck him in the chest with the back of her hand.

"Of course I'm not!"

"I'm sorry," he replied. "It's just earlier you made it seem like you had someone in your life and honestly, you seemed surprised when Ginny mentioned him. You thought she meant someone else, didn't you?"

She hated not being honest with Charlie of all people, but she knew he wouldn't handle the news about Thorfinn very well.

"No, I'm not shagging _anyone_ right now, sadly."

"Pity. But there's someone you'd like to?"

Hermione groaned before putting her head back down on the table. This entire situation was completely bizarre. If anyone had told her a week earlier she would've been having this conversation, she would've owled St. Mungo's. Charlie was always too damn perceptive. She couldn't explain what had happened in the past week that had turned her miserable, uninteresting existence upside down. Maybe it was slow growing insanity? Everyone in her life had been predicting she would finally lose it at some point. If lusting after a Death Eater wasn't insane, she needed to review the definition.

"Come on, Hermione. Let's go into the other room. I'll hex anyone who mentions that wanker."

With a grateful smile she followed Charlie into the lounge where the family was congregated. Most of the eleven children present were upstairs playing in the dedicated nursery. Just as she had done when they arrived at the table, Molly ordered Percy to find another seat so the two of them could sit on the sofa next to each other.

"No need to get up, Perce. Hermione doesn't mind sitting in my lap," Charlie teased.

She rolled her eyes. A simple spell elongated the sofa just enough that she could squeeze in next to the dragonkeeper. There were several smirks around the room. Hermione was thankful to see that the two kitchen interrogators were upstairs putting their youngest children down for naps. At least she had the benefit of a few more minutes without them demanding more answers she wasn't prepared to give.

"So, 'Mione, did you have a better rest of your week?" Harry asked, his voice carrying across the room.

"Yes, it was fine, thank you," she answered curtly. Her feelings were still a little hurt from their conversation earlier in the week.

"Oh, dear, did you have a rough week?" Molly asked.

Hermione could've cursed Harry. All eyes were on them. She hoped he would just drop the subject altogether.

"Hermione was upset with me that I didn't warn her personally that there would be a parolee working in the Ministry," Harry explained. "I didn't consider her history with the one chosen to work in the Maintenance department."

She felt her cheeks redden at the attention. Charlie was staring at her with a bemused expression. The others seemed sympathetic.

"It wasn't that big of a problem, Harry," she muttered. "I was just _surprised._ "

"No, no, Hermione. You had every right to be annoyed with me. I should've remembered."

"Who is it?" Charlie asked.

She didn't want to admit that she had been upset. It seemed that everyone else had been able to move past their war memories. Why couldn't she?

"It doesn't matter," she replied.

"Thorfinn Rowle," Harry answered for her. "He's one of three Death Eaters who qualified for parole. He works at the Ministry. The others work at St. Mungo's and at a small care home in Kent."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Charlie was still staring. A short discussion continued around them about the parole program and how it might be expanded in the future. Harry was always excited about an opportunity to redeem the unredeemable. It was something that had changed in him the older he grew. He credited his experiences with Professor Snape in learning that not everyone could be packaged up in two categories of 'Good' and 'Bad'. Hermione was proud of the growing up he'd done in the ten years since the end of the war.

"Charlie, dear, have you found a flat yet?" Molly asked.

Every muscle in the dragonkeeper's body tensed at the innocent question from his mother. Hermione witnessed his cheeks flush and he dropped his eyes from her face.

"Still looking, Mum," he answered.

"A flat? Where?" Hermione asked quietly.

He cleared his throat. She had never seen him so out of sorts. It unnerved her. What was the big secret?

"London, probably." His voice was hardly above a whisper.

"What?"

Charlie stood up from the sofa. All conversation ceased around the room. He grasped her hand and pulled her back into the kitchen. She hated that everyone was paying such close attention to them. They all were behaving as if they knew something that she didn't. When they were alone, he seemed ill at ease.

"What is going on, Charlie?" she demanded. "Why are you acting so strange?"

"I didn't expect Mum to just come right out and ask me that."

He ran his hand through his hair, a sure sign he was frustrated.

"I'm leaving Romania," he declared, his announcement somewhat anti-climactic.

"Yeah, I figured that out," she retorted. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Honestly? I didn't think you'd care. You've been avoiding me since the last time you came to Romania. Kingsley and that tosser you went out with last night offered me the chance to head up the Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau last month. I'm not getting any younger and I guess I had the hair burnt off my head one too many times. It's a job for a young wizard."

"Right. Because you're so old."

She was steadily growing angrier. How could he claim to be her friend and not drop her an owl announcing that not only was he moving to her city, but he was also getting an office thirty feet from hers? Charlie could sense her irritation. He placed both hands on her shoulders.

"Come on, Mine. You and I haven't even spoken in _over_ a year."

"Why now? Four years ago you said you would probably die in Romania. Nothing I could say or do would change your mind."

"I recall some of your ideas to convince me were a lot of fun."

His smirk only made her furious. She shrugged out of his grasp.

"You've always had shit timing, Charlie."

She summoned her coat from the front hall. No doubt it flying through the lounge over everyone's heads set the chins wagging. She didn't care. Charlie made to follow her out the kitchen door. She was able to stop him with a single raised hand.

"Guess I'll see you around the office, Charlie."

His pleas for her to stay were ignored. She could feel his eyes on her the entire walk to the Apparition point. A week earlier she was snuggled up on the sofa in her flat reading a boring book completely alone with no thoughts of that changing any time soon. How had so much changed in her life in just seven days?


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Monday

Hermione rarely struggled getting out bed each morning. Usually the cold emptiness of it was enough of an incentive to slither out from her sheets when her alarm went off the first time. A vocal opponent of the overuse of the snooze button, she hit it at least three times before she could no longer justify hiding in her bed any longer.

It had been a terrible night. Once she Apparated home from the Burrow after Charlie's stunning revelation, she wanted nothing more than to drown her sorrows in an extra large bottle of wine. If she had been relying too much on alcohol in the previous weeks, she would worry about that later. She lay on her sofa watching hours of mindless television in an effort to get her mind off of Charlie _fucking_ Weasley and the realization that the idiots in her office were sure to have seen her picture in the society pages. She dreaded the next day dawning.

By half past seven she couldn't lay in bed another second. She was going to be late to work already. Any longer in bed and she would be the latest she had ever been. All she needed now was someone accusing her of relying on Kenneth Towler for special treatment. She forced her feet to touch the ground and made herself take one of the shortest showers of her life. It also prevented her from having any inappropriate fantasies about a certain Death Eater she knew if she kept it short.

By the time she was finally dressed, her hair charmed into what Thorfinn referred to as her 'just shagged look' (though that hadn't been her intention) and half a cold bagel in her mouth, it was almost a quarter after eight. She groaned when she realized that meant she was likely going to have to wait in line with the bulk of the Ministry workforce to enter the building. She hated queuing up with the others. Their inane chatter grew on her nerves in only a matter of seconds.

"Good morning, Hermione," greeted her next door neighbor. They were both warding their front doors at the same time.

"Good morning, Pavel."

"Hermione," he said, his voice growing lower and in a teasing warning tone. "How many times have I told you? Pavel is my grandfather's name. It's old man's name! Call me Pasha."

She smiled at his insistence. Pavel, er, _Pasha_ Poliakoff was an old Durmstrang classmate and close friend of Viktor Krum's. When he was offered a job in London working with the Russian ambassador, Viktor asked for her help in finding him a flat. For five years he had been the perfect neighbor: quiet, polite and rarely home. She liked the slightly older wizard immensely. In the rare moments that their paths crossed, he never failed to make her smile.

"I'm sorry, _Pasha_."

He smiled broadly at the correct use of the diminutive form of his name. They both headed to the staircase leading to the ground floor. More than once Pasha had to cover a yawn with his hand.

"We are both late today," Pasha declared. "I did not want to get out of bed."

"Neither did I. Are you very busy at the embassy right now?"

"Always busy. Only one other wizard works there in our _special_ department. He is usually one who visits your Ministry. I am one always stuck in tiny office."

She laughed and he smiled. If anyone could understand the frustrations of spending life constantly in a very small office pushing parchment around, it was Hermione Granger. They parted ways once out the front door: Hermione to the alley to Apparate and Pasha to the nearest tube station. Unlike most wizards he seemed to enjoy Muggle transportation. He said once that it gave him time to fully wake up before arriving at work.

There were more than a few curious Ministry employees looking in her direction when she Apparated to the London office. Several actually began whispering behind their hands at her approach. Hermione simply rolled her eyes. Did that many people seriously read the Society section? If so, that was a scathing indictment of the reading habits of her fellow citizens. She resisted the urge to encourage them all to open a book now and again. More whispers followed her in the Atrium. At least the other occupants of her lift resorted to only glancing at her repeatedly through the corner of their eyes.

She hated awkward lift rides and was grateful the second the doors opened to her level. Every single person in her sub-division looked up from their desks to stare at her as she made her way to her office. She wanted to laugh at them all. Were their lives really that uninteresting they had to focus on hers?

A hint of a smile was forming on her lips until she saw a copy of that morning's Daily Prophet charmed to stick to the outside of her office door. The same moment from the restaurant when Kenneth removed her coat was featured in a large, moving photograph from an entirely different angle than the one from the day before. This one made Kenneth's leer even more pronounced and her expression seem almost sultry. A bold headline covered most of the top half of the front page.

 _Granger Proves Willing to Do Anything to Be on Top_

She ripped the newspaper off of her door in one fluid motion. Her hands were shaking with raw fury as she tried to open her office. A quick scan of the article while it was still hanging to the door revealed a very familiar by-line. Hermione could only imagine the kind of nonsensical trash Rita Skeeter had written.

 _Perhaps the most infamous third of the Golden Trio, Hermione Granger, was spotted on a romantic date this past Saturday evening at a posh Diagon Alley establishment. While Granger being on any kind of date would be a rare enough event to make headlines in wizarding publications all over the world, the most shocking part of her date was the gentleman seen on her arm. Kenneth Towler is expected to one day ascend to the highest rank of our government to become Minister for Magic. Perhaps Granger is simply attempting to 'get in on the ground floor', as the Muggles would say, to snatch up this eligible bachelor before a more worthy candidate for the handsome wizard's affections can be found._

 _This reporter wonders, however, if Granger is perhaps using her somewhat limited feminine wiles in such a manner to ensure a more lucrative position within the Ministry of Magic. Currently she is only an assistant unit supervisor in the Office for House-Elf Relocation, a rather tedious subdivision within the larger 'Being' division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Mister Towler is currently the youngest Department Head in the Ministry for the same department that Granger has been employed in for the previous eight years. Could there be a more impressive position that Granger has set her sights on?_

 _An anonymous source within the Ministry recently turned over a short list of potential candidates being considered for a coveted position within the Goblin Liaison Office, a prominent subdivision also within the 'Being' division of the same department. Candidate Number One? Miss Hermione Granger. The same trustworthy source informed this reporter personally that Kenneth Towler is the very person who submitted the list just last week to current Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt. A happy coincidence?_

 _So why has the notorious purveyor of famous, powerful wizards suddenly taken an interest in Mister Towler? Is she expecting to trade favors for favor? The timing of her Saturday night dinner in what is considered one of the more romantic venues in Diagon Alley with the very man responsible for nominating her for a much more prestigious position within his very own department is very suspicious indeed._

 _Requests to speak directly with Minister Shacklebolt about this blatant 'quid pro quo' situation within his Ministry have all been denied. Owls sent to Mister Towler and Miss Granger requesting clarification have both been returned unopened._

 _It seems that we must all wait and see who the new Goblin Liaison will be._

Hermione dropped the newspaper straight into the bin where it belonged. At least all of the hostile stares sent in her direction that morning made some sense. Of course the deplorable Rita Skeeter would latch on to the worst details of any situation involving her to make a sensational headline. Following the last war and Skeeter's forced registration of her Animagus form, Hermione no longer had any hold over the tacky witch. She had been determined to ruin Hermione's life ever since. Somehow she wasn't sure that the older woman would ever get over the weeks she spent living in a jar in Hermione's bedroom.

She had already expected that she would need to inform Kingsley of the potential conflict of interest in this entire situation, but she never expected the entire country to know about it before she had a chance. Hermione pulled a fresh sheet of memo parchment out of her top desk drawer to pen a quick missive to her friend on Level One. Hopefully his schedule would be free enough at some point that day to see her.

Just as she charmed the door open to allow the paper airplane to fly out towards the Minister's office, an unwelcome intruder burst across the threshold. Matthew was red-faced and clutching a copy of the newspaper with such force that his knuckles were white. Through the open door Hermione could see several of their subordinates trying to get a glimpse of the unit supervisor about to yell at the assistant unit supervisor. Kettletoft slammed the door shut behind him, knocking several of Hermione's frames off of the wall.

"Good morning, Matthew," she said, raising a single eyebrow. "Did you have a pleasant weekend?"

"What the _fuck_ is the meaning of this?"

He threw the wadded up newspaper onto the top of her desk. She didn't even reach for it. There was no need. No doubt every single word of that horribly written article would forever be burned into her brain.

"I had dinner with Kenneth on Saturday. I thought that was obvious enough by the picture on the front."

" _Why_ did you have dinner with him?"

He was towering over her desk using all of his physical assets to appear intimidating. Hermione was less than impressed. She had been staring Death Eaters in the eye while this tosser was safely hiding in an inconsequential office in the mockery of Thicknesse's Ministry praying that no one looked at him twice. Matthew had never had a single harmful curse sent at him until the day his ex-wife caught him in bed with another witch. Hermione was also more than just a little confident in her ability to out duel him any second of any day.

"We were hungry."

Sarcasm was indeed the lowest form of wit, but Hermione could not care less in that moment. How dare he confront her about her personal life? As far as she could tell, it was _no one's_ business what happened that night except for hers and Kenneth's. Matthew did not appreciate the sarcasm in the slightest. His fist came crashing down on the desktop to make a loud thud.

" _Twenty_ years, Hermione! _Twenty_ years I've been working my arse off in this department in various subdivisions for the _chance_ to apply for the Goblin Liaison Office. I've been here since Hogwarts. I've worked in some of the most menial jobs in the most monotonous subdivisions."

"I don't believe I understand the point you are trying to make, Matthew."

"You've been here _eight_ years. The only reason why you didn't start right at the bottom and got to come in straight as an assistant unit supervisor is because of your high test grades and because you had Minister Fucking Shacklebolt as a reference on your application. Already you have had special favors thrown in your direction. Now you just waltz out with the Department Head all tarted up in a tight dress like a slag and it's being practically handed to you?! Did you let him fuck you before he turned your name in or did you make him wait until you were certain he would do it first?"

Hermione rose from her desk chair to stand at her fullest height. Anyone who had grown up with the witch would have had the intelligence or at least the experience to know that when she had that look in her eye, she was not be messed with. Her wand was still inside her robe pocket, but it was not needed. She had enough righteous indignation at his insinuations that the magic crackling all around her didn't need a conduit.

"How dare you? How dare you accuse me of such deplorable behavior when we all know that you are not above using your own limited power to seduce the young girls who come to this subdivision straight out of school?"

Matthew's eyes narrowed at her remark. Yes, it was common knowledge that he had a history of seducing his subordinates. Emily was only the latest in a long line of ignorant witches who had come and gone through their office. All it took was the idiot leaning over her desk to allow him a view of her more than ample cleavage to get him to pawn all of her work off on Hermione or one of her other _less receptive_ coworkers.

"I am _not_ shagging Kenneth, but even if I were, Matthew, it is none of your sodding business!"

He was around the back of her desk by that point. His slow footsteps were bringing him closer to her each moment. Hermione was not apprehensive of him in the slightest, but she did wish that he would have enough respect to stay out of her personal space.

"You have no proof," he spat.

She actually scoffed at his remark. All she really would have to do in case of an inquiry that would never happen was submit her memories to be viewed in a penseive. There had been numerous occasions that she had had to witness his inept flirting with the prettier members of their small group. How many times had she seen him lean over Emily's desk to _accidentally_ brush his arm against her unnaturally large, come-fuck-me tits? It was disgusting really.

"None of this is any of your business, Matthew. Not my private life. Not anything about a potential job that would get me the hell away from you. None of it."

"I never would have thought that an uptight prude like you would ever flash her cunt to a man with the least bit of power just to get ahead."

"First of all, you know nothing about me, especially nothing about my predilections for adult bedroom activities. Secondly, I have not 'flashed my cunt' as you so eloquently put it to anyone to get ahead. Lastly, go fuck yourself."

He actually had the audacity to smirk at her last comment. This was a side of him that Hermione had never seen. It was feral and manic. His continuous slow, steady movements brought his much larger body only inches in front of hers. She could feel her heart beating faster inside her chest. Even though she had a history in battle, she was out of practice. Matthew had almost a foot and at least seven stone on her. A physical altercation would put him ahead every single time unless she could somehow manage to get her knee right in the tender spot between his legs. Assuming he had bollocks, of course. She still wasn't entirely certain he did.

"All of this fire inside of you could've been better served if you hadn't been such a bitch."

Hermione was confused, especially when he stepped close enough that her perfectly normal, albeit a little average, breasts brushed against his chest. He had never stood this closely to her in eight years. The signals he was giving off were both peculiar and a bit unnerving. Was he seriously admitting to her that if she had been a little bit nicer to him he would've deigned to fuck her at some point? The leer on his face was all the confirmation she needed.

"Go away, Matthew."

Her tone was steady despite the hammering inside her chest. Matthew leaned down until his lips were just outside the shell of her ear.

"I'm going to enjoy making your life a living hell from now on."

She placed both of her palms on his chest and pushed. Though unable to force him to topple backwards on his arse, slamming his head on the way down, it was enough to knock him just far enough that she could move away from the wall he had her pinned against. His promise was still echoing through her mind when he walked back out her office door. It had been upsetting for a brief few moments until she reminded herself that working for him in this office was already hell. What could he possibly do to make it any worse?

The next few hours passed with no incidents. It seemed that everyone was wanting to give her a wide berth which helped her complete most of her daily tasks in record time. Just a few minutes after ten she heard a sharp knock at her door. When she looked up from her latest report, all she could see was what appeared to be a floating bouquet of at least three dozen red roses. She rolled her eyes before asking the delivery wizard to come in. As if her day couldn't get to be any more of a spectacle.

"Thank you," she said, handing a reluctant sickle over as a tip.

He must have sensed this was not a welcome delivery and likely to become airborne at any moment because the delivery wizard rushed from the office after one look at the sour expression marring her face. Curious onlookers from outside the door were craning their necks to see her reaction to the ostentatious collection of flowers.

 _Hopefully you aren't regretting the other night. I enjoyed myself immensely and would love to take you out again. – K_

She wanted to rip the card into teeny, tiny, little pieces after the first read, but refrained from doing so. Too many witnesses. All she needed was one more juicy bit of gossip to float around the Department. She did groan, however, when she found the bar of Honeydukes premium dark chocolate stuck amongst the stems. At least she knew someone who would enjoy the bar.

"Oh, excellent, they've arrived."

An annoyingly chipper voice filled her office half an hour after the delivery. One glance up proved to Hermione that Kenneth Towler was not in the least bit upset that their date had been so thoroughly advertised to the world at large. He swept into her office and ignoring the stares from her subordinates, shut the door behind him. Hermione resisted the urge to run out of the room before the chins could start wagging again.

"Thank you for the flowers," she replied though she wasn't the least bit grateful. Why did he have to make such an obvious display on such a horrible day? It was only years of her mother instilling polite manners in her that caused her to say 'thanks'.

Kenneth came behind her desk to sit on top of it. She remained seated in her chair. His hand began to play with some of her curls.

"I'm sorry about the pictures from Saturday night," he stated. "If I had known there was any interest in where you and I went out to dinner, I would've snuck us in the back door."

 _Bullshit_ , she thought. Hermione was convinced more than ever that he was responsible for the pictures. He must have thought it would look good for his future if he could prove to the world that he was dating an actual war heroine. There were still a great number of people in their society that admired her for the job she did during the last war. No doubt he tipped off the photographers for a little bit of publicity in the Society pages.

The only problem with his plan was that he didn't take into account for the fact that Rita Skeeter had a personal grudge against the woman involved.

"I just left Minister Shacklebolt's office," he explained. "We discussed what happened. Though he agrees that you are likely the best candidate for the job, it would not look good if he were to appoint you after all of this publicity."

Hermione felt her shoulders sag at his pronouncement. It wasn't exactly a shock, but somehow she hoped that there would be an opportunity for her to prove to any naysayers that she was perfectly capable of doing the job. She couldn't help but agree with their decision. It would look unforgivably like special treatment if she was allowed to accept the position while the public believed her to be in a romantic relationship with the Department Head.

"The Minister suggested that you might even be interested in taking a position upstairs in the DMLE. One of the witches in the Improper Use of Magic office is looking to retire soon."

Well, she certainly couldn't imagine it being a good idea to stay in a boring subdivision where her boss obviously hated her. If she moved departments, there would be less of an outrage at her seeming to have a romantic relationship with the highest ranking official in another department. Maybe a move upstairs was just what she needed. And if Charlie was going to be working in the same department soon, all the more reason. She wasn't sure what she would do if she had to see him every single day. Probably something embarrassing. Like convince herself that she was in love with him again. That wouldn't do.

"I will think about it," she promised.

"I meant what I said in my card," he declared. "I would love to take you out again."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Kenneth. Look at the potential scandal we created with a simple dinner."

His hand continued to play with her curls. It was distracting. Hermione wished he would stop.

"Sadly, I have an extremely busy week and it's my parents' anniversary this weekend. I won't be back until early Monday."

She had to force herself not to sigh audibly in relief. At least she could put off the inevitable 'I'm just not that interested in you' discussion they needed to have. Sometimes she could be a bloody coward. It was easier to simply ignore the awkward situation than dive into it. Kenneth left a few minutes later after kissing her softly and swiftly directly on the mouth. He practically floated out of the room with his buoyant attitude. Hermione groaned. It was going to be harder than she expected to get rid of him.

With the exception of one single encounter with Matthew at the end of the day wherein he literally threw a stack of parchment at her to complete before she went home, everyone else left her alone. She was grateful for small mercies. Nothing that Matthew had thrown at her was of great importance, but she refused to give in to his petulance. She was a grown witch and it was apparent that someone was going to have to be the adult. She was going to do everything she could to not give in to her baser instincts.

"You're still working?"

Hermione jumped at the sound of the masculine voice. She had been alone in the department for hours. Somehow she had let the time slip away unnoticed.

"Oh my god, Thorfinn!"

She clutched at her chest which only made him laugh. The burly wizard stood in the doorway of her office with a smirk on his handsome face.

"I'd expected I would have to put my tongue to good use before I ever heard you utter those words, Princess," he joked. "Would you mind repeating yourself? Maybe say it in a breathier tone? I'd like something to think about later when I'm alone."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the crude innuendo. Just when she thought she was annoyed, she snorted. How could he continue to have the most bizarre effect on her? Obviously feeling encouraged by her response, Thorfinn stepped inside the office. His eyes travelled from the pretentious bouquet of flowers down to the rubbish bin. A soft chuckle escaped his mouth.

"'Granger Proves Willing to Do Anything to Be On Top'?" he read. "There's no need for you to do anything special. All you ever have to do is ask, Princess. I like a witch unafraid to take control."

His wink coupled with yet another crude innuendo made her snort again. If anyone else had said anything even remotely that crass to her, she would've been offended. Probably even hexed them. Belatedly she realized that her laughter only encouraged him to keep on doing it.

"I've already finished this entire level," he explained. "Why are you still here? I look forward to our lift rides together."

"Tosser left a big stack of work before he left. Said it had to be done before I left."

Thorfinn moved closer to stand behind her chair. He stared at the parchment over her shoulder with a disgusted expression. He shuffled a few of the pieces around to get a better look.

"Somehow I doubt the world will cease to revolve around the sun if Ms. Merryweather from Bath has to wait until tomorrow to get a new elf assigned. It might even be good for her to wash her own clothes."

Hermione suddenly became aware of how close Thorfinn was actually standing to her when she turned her head to smile at his remark. Her left shoulder brushed against his surprisingly firm chest. The corners of his lips twitched at the contact. He put both hands on the back of her chair and spun it around. Surprised by the abrupt motion, she wasn't expecting him to stand in front of her and yank her out of the chair by her hand. She almost toppled straight into that surprisingly firm chest. He managed to catch her in time by the elbows.

"You are going to wait for the lift with me and then you are taking it up to the Atrium," he gently ordered. "Time to go home. Tosser can wait until tomorrow for this shite to be finished. Won't hurt him."

When put into such blatant terms, Hermione couldn't find any reason to argue with Thorfinn. Not that she really wanted to. She had wanted to go back home since before she even left home that morning. Grabbing her coat off of the hook behind the office door, she exited the room before he could forcibly remove her. _Not that it would be such a bad thing to have his hands all over me_ , she thought, mentally chastising herself for such desperate thoughts.

"How did your laundry date go yesterday?" she innocently asked while they were waiting for the lift to arrive moments later.

Thorfinn grumbled. Apparently Hermione wasn't the only one who had a dismal Sunday.

"Laundry went all right, I guess. Didn't shrink anything," he answered. "Why did you not tell me that was a possibility?"

She shrugged her shoulders. The thought had occurred to her at the time, but it was mostly in the form of a humorous thought. She chuckled again at the image in her mind of Thorfinn holding up shrunken jumpers that would hardly wrap around his remarkable bicep. He smirked at her laughter.

"I got clean pants out of the ordeal anyway."

"Always important to have clean pants."

Thorfinn rolled his striking blue eyes at her remark. She attempted and failed to stifle a giggle.

"What went wrong?" she asked, genuine in her curiosity.

He sneered.

"Apparently I lost my touch with birds. Too many years locked up in Azkaban."

"Lost your touch? Somehow I doubt that. What happened?"

"The _signals_ I thought I was getting from Natalie, my neighbor, were non-existent. Found out she doesn't even like blokes right as I tried to kiss her."

Hermione wanted to laugh so hard it hurt, but she didn't want to hurt his feelings. He narrowed his eyes at her cheeks that were no doubt red.

"Go ahead. You can laugh."

"Oh, you poor thing!" She burst out in loud, ringing laughter at his sullen air. "How awful!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's bloody amusing. Turns out the reason why she felt so sympathetic about my fake divorce is because _her_ girlfriend just broke up with her recently. She thought we were both brokenhearted."

The lift arrived. Hermione waited patiently for Thorfinn to push his bucket inside with his mop. His sneer was soon replaced with a warm smile. He couldn't continue to be in a poor mood with her chuckling beside him.

"I'm so depressed by the whole thing that Saturday night I plan on going back to our pub and drinking until I forget what rejection feels like. Want to come watch?"

"If this week goes by as terribly as I assume it will, I'll meet you there at seven."

When the doors opened onto the third level, Thorfinn pushed his bucket back out. As the doors were closing he turned around to wink yet again.

"It's a date, Princess."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Tuesday

All of Hermione's coworkers at the Ministry continued to treat her with an air of coolness the day after the horrid newspaper article was published. Rita Skeeter hadn't been able to uncover any new information to warrant a second article to Hermione's intense relief. She wasn't sure what she would do if faced with another scandal in her life. There had been quite a few in the months following the war that had led to her essentially hiding within the safety of Hogwarts Castle from the ensuing backlash. Another scandal would provide her with no available hiding place.

Matthew had been furious to learn that she dared to go home before completing the stack of work he left for her the day before. More than once he threatened her with a disciplinary action. Too many of those in a short period of time and there would be nothing else to do but release her from her bleak job. It wouldn't be the end of her world to lose her job, but she had spent eight years of her life doing it. She was admittedly a little frightened to be exiled from the temporary sanctuary of knowing what she was going to do day in and day out. There was a gnawing fear in her gut any time she tried to imagine what she would do if forced out of the Ministry.

"I told you specifically that you were to finish _every_ single report I laid on your desk yesterday," Matthew repeated for at least the fourth or fifth time. Hermione had to bite her tongue to keep from retorting that he did not, in fact, lie anything on her desk. He threw the stack at her face from the doorway. An argument in semantics would serve no one at that point. "I have half a mind to write you up for such blatant dereliction of duties."

"Well, if you feel that you need to do that, please go ahead and do it as quickly as you can. _Kingsley_ and I are meeting for lunch. I'd really hate to be delayed."

She hated using her friendship with the Minister for Magic to her benefit, but there were times when it came in handy. Kingsley had invited her to share a quick meal at the Leaky Cauldron that day. She knew that he would likely be wanting to apologize in person for why she could not be considered for the position she desired. It still galled her to be certain, but she was determined not to take out her frustrations on her old friend.

Matthew's expression changed immediately after hearing about her lunch date with the Minister. He _loathed_ being reminded that she had friends in high places. It made him feel inferior to his annoying subordinate. Hermione bit back another smirk at his narrowed eyes. Throwing up his hands in frustration, Matthew rushed from her office with an assurance that she _would_ continue to follow his instructions if she wanted to remain in her job, Minister as a friend or not. She breathed a sigh of relief when he left her alone for the rest of the day.

Her lunch with Kingsley had gone exactly as she knew it would. He apologized repeatedly for not being able to appoint her following the potential scandal of Rita Skeeter's article from the day before.

"I understand, Kings. I really do," she replied, picking at her dismal lunch. "It was a bad idea on my part to go out to dinner with Kenneth for _any_ reason."

"Why _did_ you go out with him?" Kingsley asked. He was an amusing man in that despite his lofty position as the head of their government, he was a terrible gossip. He made it no secret to Hermione that he thoroughly enjoyed their sadly infrequent chinwags over tea. They very rarely discussed anything that had to do with the Ministry, focusing more on the tawdry personal lives of their mutual acquaintances. "I was under the impression that you weren't interested in pursuing any kind of relationship with him. How many times did you tell me he'd asked you out?"

"Seventy-three," she muttered. "I finally accepted after the seventy-fourth. I don't know, Kings. It just kind of happened. Maybe I've been feeling too bloody lonely lately and the first man to show any amount of interest in me I've clung to."

Of course the moment the words fell out of her mouth she started to really think about the content of her message. Maybe that's why she had been so attracted to the Death Eater responsible for mopping the floors. Yes, he was a good-looking wizard. He always had been. Even when he was tormenting her as a snarky, seventeen year old, he was handsome. The problem was he _knew_ it too. She considered that maybe the only reason he had taken such a starring role in her fantasies of late was simply because she was hungry for positive, male attention. Bloody pathetic, really.

"You know Ryan has been begging me to set you up with his cousin," Kingsley explained.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. Ryan was the love of Kingsley's life, set up just before the beginning of the second wizarding war by Nymphadora Tonks. He was as interested in Hermione's depressing love life as Kingsley was. She frequently teased them about adopting a child or two just to give them someone else for them to obsess about. They would make lovely parents after all. Merlin knew Kingsley was always full of fatherly advice for her that she didn't always want to hear. Maybe someone else would.

"I'm sure he is wonderful, but I am just not interested right now."

"Someone else then?" Kingsley asked, raising a single eyebrow.

"Maybe."

A broad grin crossed against his handsome face. She blushed slightly at the attention.

"Someone I know? Is it someone that I recently offered a position to in the Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau?"

Hermione groaned. Sometimes she really regretted admitting to Kingsley years ago that she and Charlie were an on-again off-again _thing_. She glanced at the clock on the wall. While she would never get in trouble for taking an extra long lunch with the Minister himself, she didn't want to linger too long. Matthew seemed genuine in his desire to make her life miserable. He didn't need any fuel for that fire.

"And on that note," she said, rising from her chair. Kingsley's face dropped in genuine disappointment. "I should get back to the office."

"If I casually mentioned his name to Towler as a possible Head of that subdivision, it was simply because I thought he would be the best for the job. Not because I was worried about you, love."

She rolled her eyes and then tempered the expression with a warm smile. He had never been able to lie to her convincingly. She leaned down to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you for lunch, Kingsley. Let's not go so long between them again."

Hermione spent the remainder of her day at the office assiduously avoiding everyone. Even when Matthew brought her another stack of work to complete, she didn't even look up at him. By the time the clock showed the time to be half past nine, she had her coat in hand and headed to the lifts. Thorfinn arrived soon after with a broad smile across his face.

"So I'm not going to have to force you to leave today?"

"I can't stand another minute in this place and I didn't want to give you another excuse to manhandle me."

Loud laughter erupted out of the man next to her when she made her statement.

"Somehow I doubt either one of us would be truly bothered by that scenario."

She still had a hint of a blush on her cheeks long after he exited the lift on Level Three.

* * *

Wednesday

By mid-week Hermione was even more convinced that she was going to continue to have a terrible week. No one speaking to her had become simply a part of her life not long after she entered the Ministry. Once it became clear that she wasn't willing to play the political game that was required to succeed in many areas, she was all but left alone. Usually it wasn't a problem. She was able to get more work done when she didn't have legions of incompetents clamoring for her attention. Her status as a war heroine was a burden at times. Being ignored was something she was used to from her days at Hogwarts. Most people left her alone in school unless they needed something from her. Adulthood, she was learning, was eerily similar to school. Same problems, same concerns, same fears, same everything really. The players were simply older.

More than once she feared she was going to hex her boss. Matthew was already on her nerves before it was even eight o'clock on Wednesday morning. She allowed him the opportunity to rant and rave about her inability to do something correctly. By the third word or so she had completely turned her ears off to his annoying voice. If he thought that he was going to break her to the point that she would resign, he was nuts.

When lunchtime rolled around, she had enough of being inside the walls of the Ministry. Too many whispers still followed her wherever she went and whatever was being served that day in the canteen smelled nauseating. Visiting Diagon Alley the day before had been refreshing. Of course a lot of that was likely the company as well. She stepped out of the Ministry building to the employee Apparition point. Seconds later she was standing in the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron. She wasn't hungry, but there were a few errands she wanted to run. It seemed that she was only available to shop during the weekends. Her grueling hours at the office weren't conducive to being outside during daylight hours.

Her first stop was to Slug and Jiggers Apothecary. A scan of her potions ingredients the evening before had been surprisingly low. It had been a while since she had given herself adequate time to conduct any brewing. She typically found the hiss of a bubbling cauldron soothing. Another scan of her bathroom cabinets revealed she was also depressingly out of any form of contraceptive potions. She added the ingredients for a highly effective one she learned in school to her shopping list. It might have been simply wishful thinking on her part, but it made her feel better.

Pomegranate juice joined the half a dozen or so other ingredients in her shopping bag. While she was scanning the shelves for goosegrass, she noticed a familiar looking woman standing only feet away examining the fresh rat spleens. The tall, thin woman had long, blonde hair and when she turned towards Hermione, she could see the same striking blue eyes she had only recently become reacquainted with.

"Hermione Granger?" the witch asked, tilting her head as if she wasn't positive that was who she was seeing.

"Reina?"

Thorfinn's younger sister smiled shyly when Hermione closed the few feet of space between them. Hermione extended her hand in greeting. She was certain she hadn't seen Reina Smith since her sixth year at Hogwarts, Reina's seventh. Even though she had run into Zacharias more times than she really cared to in the years since the war ended, his wife was never with him.

"It's been a very long time," Hermione said. "How have you been?"

Reina had a tight smile at the question. If Hermione wasn't one of those people with extensive experience in pretending she was all right when she actually wasn't, she might have believed Reina when she claimed she was doing well. Her response felt rote, as if she was trying to convince herself that she was doing well. Hermione couldn't understand why she suddenly felt so sad around the woman.

When they were at Hogwarts together Reina was always sweet and friendly if a bit standoffish. Hermione remembered more than once feeling a great sense of envy because the older witch was able to perform difficult charms with seemingly little effort. The Gryffindor used to seek out the Hufflepuff on rare occasions for assistance with her charms work. Reina was always happy to help. It had been strange to Hermione to learn how different the woman was from her elder brother.

She was a still a beautiful woman despite the sadness in her blue eyes.

"I see your brother every day at the Ministry," Hermione casually announced. She tried to make it sound as if this was a perfectly normal conversation to have and not a discussion about her Death Eater brother who had only recently been released from prison.

Reina's entire demeanor changed at the mention of Thorfinn. A bright smile crossed her face that dispelled all of the previous sadness and almost made her look like the same girl Hermione remembered from school.

"How does he look?"

 _Delicious_.

"He looks good," Hermione replied, mentally kicking herself for her lascivious thoughts about the woman's brother. "Even larger than I remember. I didn't realize that was possible."

Both women chuckled softly. Reina reached deep into a pocket of her robes to pull out a sealed envelope. She stared at it for several moments before lifting her eyes to meet Hermione's again. It almost seemed as if she was having an internal struggle on whether or not to speak to the younger witch.

"I shouldn't ask," Reina began. "But do you think you could give this to him when you see him next?"

Hermione did not hesitate to take the envelope from her hand with a smile.

"It's just that I don't how to find him and if the owl gets returned…"

She didn't finish her sentence and Hermione began to feel uneasy. What was she not saying? Hermione reached out with her free hand to touch Reina's forearm.

"I will be happy to," assured Hermione. "Like I said, I see him every day."

"Thank you so much." Reina's eyes filled with tears. "Zacharias doesn't want me writing to him. He wishes that he could forget Finnie even exists. Oh, maybe I shouldn't put you in such a spot!"

Hermione squeezed the woman's arm gently for reassurance.

"Don't worry about it, Reina. I will be happy to get this to Thorfinn. I'll make certain he has it tonight."

The smile from earlier broke out again on Reina's face. Hermione found her behavior a bit strange, but to be fair, she had always thought Reina was a bit odd. The tinkling of the bell over the shop door interrupted the silence. Hermione's back was towards the new arrival. Whoever had just come in was someone Reina didn't want to see based on the smile dropping from her features completely. Hermione spun around to find the woman's husband coming straight for them.

"Reina, darling, are you almost finished?" Zacharias asked, completely ignoring Hermione at first. He shifted slightly and made a face that tried to convince Hermione that he was only just seeing her. He fooled no one. "Goodness, Hermione! It has been a long time. How are you?"

She had never liked the Hufflepuff. He was arrogant and untrustworthy. She would never forget how despite joining Dumbledore's Army with so many others in their fifth year, he was one of the first people to evacuate Hogwarts at the beginning of the final battle. Even almost knocked over several petrified first years in the process. He had proven time and time again that he was the antithesis of what his House stood for. Hermione hypothesized that the only reason he was even Sorted into Hufflepuff is because he was known to be a direct descendant of Helga Hufflepuff. He would have been more at home with the worst members of Slytherin House.

"I'm fine, Zacharias. Thank you."

"Are you still at the Ministry?"

"Yes, still there."

"I was just there last week to visit with my cousin. I must have missed seeing you."

Hermione was grateful that he hadn't seen her that day at the Ministry. Since the end of the war he rarely missed an opportunity when they had the misfortune of running into each other of trying to ingratiate himself within her social circle. How many times had he asked her personal questions about Harry and Ron? Or tried to figure out some way that he could get her to put in a good word with the Minister for him? It was disgusting.

During their short conversation, Hermione's eyes kept travelling back behind Zacharias to where Reina was standing. She seemed ill at ease around her husband, a fact that made Hermione suspicious. Just what kind of marriage did they really have if she seemed almost afraid of the man she married? No wonder she seemed unhappy when he walked into the shop.

"So what were you two ladies discussing when I walked in?" he asked, cutting his eyes towards his wife in an almost threatening manner. "Seemed awfully serious."

The moment he moved his gaze away from his wife, Reina's eyes widened. She was obviously trying to convey some nonverbal message to Hermione. It didn't take a genius to realize that she didn't want her husband to know they had just been discussing her brother.

"I was asking Reina if she would be interested in helping with the annual Ministry gala benefitting the children's department at St. Mungo's," Hermione lied easily.

Zacharias smiled broadly at the fib. Hermione was a member of the committee that always ran the gala. That part hadn't been a lie. It was a prestigious event that many witches throughout the country tried to get involved in for the networking and social climbing opportunities it afforded. She lost count the number of requests she got each year. Getting his wife involved with the gala would be just the kind of social boost that a wizard like Zacharias Smith would be interested in. He seemed pleased.

"As long as she isn't out of the house for too long, of course. We do have two girls after all."

He put his arm around Reina's shoulder. Hermione didn't miss the flinch on the woman's face at the gesture. The sadness was back in her eyes.

"Reina, feel free to owl me directly with any questions or suggestions you might have. I would be more than happy to _pass them along_."

The true meaning of her statement was not lost on the older woman. She gave Hermione a small smile.

"Thank you, Hermione. I will be certain that I contact you if I think I can help."

"If you both will excuse me, I have some more shopping to do," Hermione declared. "It was lovely to run into you both."

She crossed to the other side of the store to pick up a few more ingredients. In the corner of her eye she witnessed Zacharias grab Reina's arm roughly. He pulled his wife close to his body to mutter lowly. Hermione cast a quick charm to enhance her hearing. She would forever be grateful for the eavesdropping spells she learned from the twins.

"Be careful around, Granger," Zacharias warned. "She has very powerful friends. Don't make a fool out of me."

"Zach, I wouldn't…"

" _Don't_ argue with me, Reina! Never forget that it's only by my generous nature that you aren't living on the streets somewhere selling your body for sickles."

Hermione had to force herself to remain on the other side of the store when her first instinct was to rush over there and hex Zacharias' bollocks off. How dare he speak to his wife that way? They obviously had an unhealthy marriage. He was emotionally and verbally abusive. No wonder Reina seemed to be frightened of him. No wonder she wasn't anything like the girl Hermione remembered from school. Life hadn't been kind to Reina Rowle. She wondered if the abuse she was witnessing ever got any worse. Was it simply verbal or did he physically hurt her as well?

"Do you think anyone would ever let you speak to them without my good name and my family's influence? You are nothing but a Death Eater's sister. Bad blood."

"Zach…"

"Do you have everything you need? Can we get the fuck out of here now?"

Hermione continued to watch them from the corner of the store while Reina paid for her purchases. She felt sad for the woman. Obviously she had been negatively affected by her brother's arrest as well. The Smiths exited the shop soon after. Hermione paid for her ingredients and headed back to the Ministry. Her other errands would have to wait. She no longer felt in the mood to do any more shopping.

The rest of the day passed by with a startling slowness. Every minute felt like an hour, every hour felt like an entire day. She was actually not looking forward to her nightly meeting with Thorfinn. Seeing his sister that day had put her on edge. How much should she tell him of what she witnessed? Or of what she suspected? He really did not have the power to do anything to help his sister at that point. With no magic and being constantly under the scrutiny of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as a parolee, he was limited in what he could do. Maybe telling him everything would only make him feel even more useless and powerless as it was clear he already felt.

By half past nine she made up her mind that she wasn't going to tell him everything. She would simply tell him that she ran into his sister and told her that she would be happy to pass any messages she had to her brother. Part of her felt guilty for lying to him, but she really believed she was making the right decision. Maybe when he was in a position where he could actually do something, she would tell him.

"Long day?"

She jumped at the sound of Thorfinn's voice. They were both standing in front of the lifts. When Hermione spun around towards him, she noticed he was smiling.

"I must have said your name about six times, Princess. Are you all right?"

Hermione reached into her pocket to pull out the sealed envelope Reina gave her. Without an explanation, she thrust it into his hands. Thorfinn gave her a strange look before opening the envelope. His entire bearing shifted slightly when he slipped a photograph out of its paper wrapping. He stared at the photograph for several long moments. Remembering himself, he looked up at the woman standing with him.

"Where did you get this?" His voice was the softest Hermione had ever heard it. Somehow it seemed strange that such a big man with such a large personality could sound so small.

"I saw Reina today in Diagon Alley. She asked me to give this to you."

He seemed completely overwhelmed. Normally he was a man who had too many words to speak. Finding him almost speechless was a bit unnerving to Hermione. It was yet another reminder that she didn't really know this man. She didn't know or understand many of his mannerisms or his moods. He dropped his eyes back to the photograph.

"I told her that if she wanted to send you anything, she could send it directly to me. I would make sure that you got it."

His piercing blue eyes snapped up to meet hers. They were filled with unshed tears. Hermione recognized his extreme vulnerability in that moment. It had been easy to forget at times in her past and even in recent days that he was at his core, just another human being. He was more than just a Death Eater. More than just a cruel seventh year intent on making her cry. More than even a highly entertaining, if completely crude and perverted, man who had been guest starring quite a bit lately in her adult fantasies.

"Thank you," he whispered.

He pushed the photograph into her hand. She carefully held it, taking care not to smudge it with her fingertips. It was an updated photograph of his sister with his two nieces. Both girls were sitting next to their mother smiling at the camera. Reina seemed almost like her normal self when she was sitting with her girls. The overwhelming love she had for both of them was apparent even in a photograph.

"They've gotten so big," Hermione said, looking up into his face to smile.

"Yes, they have," he agreed, returning her smile.

Hermione handed the photograph back. Thorfinn stared at it a few moments longer before slipping it into his pocket with all of the reverence and care someone would show their most prized possession. Based on the expression on his countenance, it was indeed his most valued belonging.

"They are all so beautiful," he said, clearing his throat suddenly when it seemed his voice was about to break.

She reached over to place her hand on his arm. Thorfinn winked at her before pulling her to his chest for a warm embrace. The gesture startled Hermione at first, but it didn't take her long to relax against his firm chest. His arms wrapped around her back, holding her tightly against him. She couldn't help but notice in those few moments of such close proximity that he smelled fantastic. Before she was ready, he broke the embrace.

"Thank you," he repeated. "This means everything to me."

"You're welcome."

The lift arrived just in time to keep Hermione from having to give a further explanation of what happened in Diagon Alley. She felt intensely guilty keeping the truth she observed from Thorfinn. He deserved to know what his only remaining family member was experiencing, but she didn't want to hurt him.

"Are you okay?"

She didn't know how to answer him without every word falling out of her mouth being a complete lie. They stood in silence waiting for the lift to stop as it always did on Level Three. When the doors opened he still hadn't pushed her to answer his question. He pushed his bucket into the track of the doors, leaned down to drop a soft kiss on the top of her head and exited. She returned the smile he gave her as the doors were shutting. It was only when she could no longer see his face that she allowed her guilt to manifest itself into unattractive, blubbering tears.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Thursday

After a sleepless night tossing and turning worrying about what she should have or should not have said to Thorfinn about his sister, Hermione was startled by the tapping of an owl at her bedroom window. The sun was just coming up over the top of the building next door. Whoever was owling her at that early hour must have had something important to say. She only hoped it wasn't another request for an exclusive interview. If she was able to make it the rest of her life without seeing her name in the print of a newspaper, she would be a very happy woman indeed.

The owl waiting on her windowsill patiently waited for her to unroll the parchment from its leg. Hermione fed the somewhat dainty bird a treat from the bowl she kept on her dresser. She didn't recognize the handwriting, but after only a few words in to the missive she figured out immediately who it was.

 _Hermione,_

 _I wish to thank you again for passing on my message to my brother. I understand that I have placed you in an awkward position, but am grateful that you have offered your messaging services if needed. That is a kindness I can never repay. In the coming days I am certain I will request you forward a message on to Thorfinn._

 _Yesterday I am certain that you were all too aware of my relationship with my husband. I must ask to put you in yet another uncomfortable position for the time being. Please accept my apologies for this._

 _I beg you not to mention anything about what you saw to Thorfinn. He does not need to know about my struggles with my husband. Likely he would not understand. I fear that in his vulnerable position on parole that he might do something foolish thinking that he is protecting me and be thrown back into Azkaban. I could not bear to be responsible for him returning to prison. Certainly once back in there he would not be allowed to ever leave._

 _I know I ask too much of you. It is not appropriate considering we are not close friends. Perhaps in another lifetime that would have been different. Thank you again for keeping the truth from my husband yesterday and thank you again for being willing to pass on my messages. You will never understand how much that means to me._

 _Reina_

Hermione exhaled a deep breath she had not even realized she was holding when she read the end. At least she had her decision on whether or not to tell Thorfinn what she witnessed decided for her. If Reina wanted to keep the details of her marriage private from her brother, it was not Hermione's place to disagree. Besides she might not have even understood everything that she saw or heard the day before. Perhaps it was all one big misunderstanding. Maybe she was simply taking Zacharias' words out of context, skewing their meaning completely.

She didn't really believe the bollocks she was trying to convince herself of, but she knew one thing for certain. Reina was entirely correct about Thorfinn being capable of doing something foolish to get himself back in Azkaban. Knowing what little she did about the wizard and seeing how he acted simply by viewing a photograph of his sister and nieces, Hermione knew that he would do whatever he could to protect them, even if it meant strangling Zacharias Smith with his bare hands. He might feel better for a few moments until he was chucked back in Azkaban. Only then his sister and nieces truly would be without allies.

When she had her daily meeting with Thorfinn that night at the lifts, she felt more at ease with him than she had the night before. He seemed to sense a change in her behavior. Even commented that she seemed more like herself.

"You're not having a better week, are you?" he asked, a mock concern etched across his face.

"Not really," she answered.

"Good. I was afraid if your week was better you might not want to meet me at the pub."

His wink made her roll her eyes and laugh.

"I still haven't changed my mind," she promised. "I will be there. How about regardless of whether or not Friday turns out to be the greatest day of my entire life, I still meet you there on Saturday?"

His smile as the doors closed on Level Three was all the answer she needed.

* * *

Friday

Friday was _not_ the greatest day of Hermione's entire life. She wouldn't exactly classify it as one of the worst either. There were days in her past that stuck out sharply as being much worse: the Battle for Hogwarts when so many she loved died, the day she Obliviated her parents, the day she found out that the spell she cast on her parents was irreversible, the day Crookshanks passed away, the day of the Department of Mysteries fiasco where she was almost killed by Antonin Dolohov, the day she was petrified by the basilisk… The more she considered the worst days of her life, the more she decided that maybe she had been a bit remiss in some of her life choices.

The morning began as any other morning generally began for Hermione. She tackled a stack of placement reports and struggled to keep from hexing Emily for her incompetence. After a quick run to the canteen for some fresh tea around midmorning, she returned to a department positively buzzing with excitement. Or at least the _witches_ were buzzing.

"Did you see those arms?" Grace, another one of Hermione's useless subordinates, asked the other three ladies huddled at Emily's desk. "They were so muscular and _big_."

"I always heard rumors that he was the handsome one in that family, but I never could get a clear picture of him before," added Emily.

"How are we expected to get any work done at all with him just randomly traipsing past our desk?" continued Grace. "I'm afraid I won't be able to concentrate on a single thing."

Hermione snorted quietly. Grace wasn't exactly known for her stellar concentration skills to begin with. She had lost count the number of times the girl would zone out during a conversation or the number of times she had been found just staring off into space. Whoever had the girl positively drooling didn't have to be all that exciting to have her lose her concentration.

"Usually I don't find gingers all that attractive," Emily said. "But I'm certain I could make an exception for him."

The casual mention of a ginger in the department made Hermione tense. She had a feeling she knew who the young witches were gossiping about.

"Did you see those scars on his arms?" inquired Grace. "Must have been a dangerous job working with all of those dragons."

"Just adds to the whole dangerous, sexy act he has going."

Hermione didn't realize she had broken the teacup in her hand until a sharp pain was followed by a hot burn.

"Fucking hell!"

The casual swearing from their disliked supervisor caused the women to shut up. They all stared at Hermione with an air of frustration and intense distaste.

"Quick, Hermione! Are you a witch or aren't you? Cast a bleeding healing spell before you ruin the carpet," barked Matthew.

Everyone in the vicinity laughed at his vicious joke. Not that Hermione could understand how any of his words could be considered funny. Glaring at her direct supervisor, she escaped into the sanctuary of her office. She sat in her desk chair with her back to the closed office door. Before she even pulled her wand out of her pocket to clean up the mess she'd made of her hand, the tears began to fall out of her eyes.

She hated crying at work. There always seemed to be someone who walked in on it wherever she was to witness the event. It was embarrassing. If she cried in the loo, there were plenty of nosy busybodies who were aware. They might pretend like they cared what she was upset about, but in the end, they just wanted more gossip. Crying in the stairwells was just asking for someone to find you. At least she had the benefit of a door that closed. She would usually get a warning from the knock on the door that allowed her a moment to wipe her face with her sleeve at least.

"Hermione…"

Unless they were like Charlie Weasley and just burst through the closed door without warning. The wizard had always been bad about that. How many times had he just waltzed through the closed bathroom door at the Burrow when she was in there? At least with the exception of the one time she was just getting out of the shower she was usually decent in those instances. Of course that moment led to a frenzied coupling on the bathmat that had almost been interrupted by George.

She slowly turned her chair towards the new arrival's voice. Seeing her tear-streaked face and the blood dripping from her hand, Charlie's eyes grew wide. He swiftly shut the door behind him, ignoring all of the curious stares from the other members of the Office of House-Elf Relocation. Only a few short steps brought him around her desk. He grasped her bloody hand in his without invitation. A few muttered incantations and her hand was as if it had never been bleeding.

"Are you all right, love?" Charlie asked, pushing some of her stray curls behind her ear.

"Thank you, Charlie," she replied, ignoring the question completely. Somehow she didn't think that having _that_ conversation with him would be helpful. "I broke a teacup in my hand."

"You have a nasty habit of doing that."

He hadn't released her previously injured hand from his and chose that moment to bring the palm up to his lips to kiss. Ordinarily she might have shivered from the attention, but he was not a welcome sight. Their argument from less than a week earlier came rushing back. She ripped her hand out of his grasp. Charlie didn't even attempt to hide his disappointment at the loss.

" _Twice_ , Charlie. Twice before I've broken a teacup in my hand. Today was the third time. I wouldn't call that a habit."

Instantly she regretted her harsh tone. He always seemed so sad when she raised her voice. She had forgotten how bloody adorable he could be.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "It's been an insanely horrible week."

Charlie sat on the edge of her desk. His muscular thighs were brushing against the top of Hermione's left arm. She tried to focus her thoughts on less _stimulating_ thoughts than the ones coursing through her mind in that moment. It had been a long time since she was so close to the former dragonkeeper if she didn't count the embarrassing Sunday dinner from only days before. Just the familiar scent wafting off of his body made her head swim. There was so much history between the two of them and if his deep blue eyes were any indication, he wanted there to be a great deal between them in the future too.

"How have you been finding your first day?" she asked, switching her tone to one a bit more diplomatic and great deal less emotional.

He reached over to gently pull one of her curls. Her instinctive reaction was to swat him away with her hand. It only took a few moments of their movements back and forth to have them both laughing. Whatever tension had been present in the room when he first walked in was quickly dissipated.

"It's been all right, I guess," he answered. "Quite a bit different than I'm used to, of course."

"Well, don't let the perfectly coiffed and fashionably robed witches fool you, there are plenty of fire breathing lizards in this department."

His ringing laughter managed to bring another smile to her face. It was almost comforting how they could always seem to fall into a routine with each other.

"Yeah, I met some of yours earlier when I came looking for you," he agreed. "They seem a formidable lot."

She laughed again at his grimace. Wouldn't it be fun to tell the horrible witches just outside her door that the man they had been drooling and positively soiling themselves about earlier wanted nothing to do with them? No matter how attractive the wizard was, he had never been interested in the women who were too aggressive. Emily would be in for a rude awakening if she ever tried to act on her previous comments. Hermione desperately hoped she would try.

"And they are every bit as awful as they seem," she explained.

"Terrifying. Almost makes me want to go head to head with another Ukrainian Ironbelly. At least I can usually tell what one of those beasts are thinking. Those women? No clue."

"Have you met your new secretary yet?"

"Yes, love her. Eighty five with gray hair. She even told me that I should get a haircut. We will get along famously."

His wink sent Hermione into another fit of giggles. She reached across the desk to ruffle his hair.

"I don't think it is too long."

She missed the darkening of his pupils at the gesture she had done unconsciously a thousand times over the years. Charlie's breath hitched the moment her fingers ran through his slightly shaggy locks. When she realized how intense his gaze was, she attempted to drop her hand. He grasped it in his hand. It was her turn to feel her heart beating fast. Would there ever come a day when he no longer had this effect on her with a simple touch of his hand?

"I miss you, Mine."

His voice had dropped down to the low level usually only used for pillow confessions. Hermione could hardly concentrate on his words with his fingers gently brushing the back of her hand. She didn't know what to say to him. Six weeks earlier and she would be throwing herself at him. Now… she wasn't so sure. He had hurt her a few too many times whether he meant to or not. Showing up in her life randomly with no warning and expecting them to start back where they were before was unreasonable. A lot had happened since then.

 _Yeah, you've developed an annoying little crush on a Death Eater. Real healthy, Granger._

"I don't know what to say, Charlie."

It wasn't a lie. She didn't want to tell him that she hadn't even thought about him recently. The last time she was in Romania she had all but given up that they would ever have any kind of normal future together. There had been something that had happened the last night they were together. Something in the middle of their usual amazing, toe-curling sex that had seemed off. It was as if even their bodies knew that it was the last time.

Hermione shook her head to banish the ridiculous thoughts. There was no telling what the future held for her. Maybe it _was_ with Charlie, but somehow she knew that _right now_ was not Charlie's time. She smiled at him, attempting to lessen the tension that had cropped up during their conversation. He returned the smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. Dropping her hand and jumping off the desk, Charlie leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

"I _am_ glad that I will get to see a lot more of you," he said.

"Yes, that will be nice."

" _Nice_? Ouch, that was not what I was hoping for."

While his tone was teasing Hermione could see that he was telling the truth. What exactly was he hoping for? She was afraid to ask. Surely he didn't expect to just be able to come right back and slip himself in her life as if the past year or so hadn't happened? Maybe he was just that confident in his abilities to sway her into his way of thinking. She tried not to show how annoyed his comment made her.

"I better get upstairs. Kingsley and I are braving what they are serving in the canteen together. Said he wanted to discuss some things with me. Sounded serious."

Hermione waited until Charlie was outside of her office again before she groaned. Oh, she had an idea just what Kingsley wanted to discuss with him. _Nosy, old busybody._ Determined not to let Charlie or anyone else ruin her mood again, she threw herself into her work. The weekend was only hours away. She was not going to let Matthew dump a whole extra load of work on her right at the end of the day that she wouldn't be able to complete. Somehow she just knew that was his plan.

She was delightfully surprised to learn that Matthew didn't want to see her face at all for the rest of their work week. He disappeared sometime after five. Hermione certainly had no complaints. There was more than enough on her desk to keep her occupied until her nightly meeting with Thorfinn. She didn't really understand why she made it a point to stay long enough each day to see him just for a few minutes. It was silly, but he was quite literally the only person she saw every day that never failed to make her laugh. Maybe like she told Kingsley earlier in the week during their lunch date, she was just lonely and clinging to the first positive male attention she received.

By the time the chime on her wall clock indicated the half hour mark, she was headed towards the lifts with her coat in hand. A swift scan of her surroundings showed Thorfinn only feet away finishing up the last bit of the level. They smiled at each other when their eyes met. She was going to wait to push the button for the lift until he was closer. It would give them at least a few more seconds alone.

She couldn't help but watch him move his mop with wide eyes. Even with his long sleeves on his Ministry issued robes she could see his large muscles flex with each sweep of the mop across the tile floor. It was almost hypnotizing watching his progress. When Thorfinn looked up from his task to see her staring, he smirked. Hermione felt her cheeks warm.

"I always knew you worked late, but I had no idea you would be here _this_ late."

The voice behind Hermione made her jump. She spun around in place to find Charlie standing at the lifts with a smile across his handsome features.

"I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to scare you. Are you all right?"

Before she could squeak out any kind of response, the smile from Charlie's face fell completely. She didn't even need to turn around to know that Thorfinn had arrived. Hermione attempted to turn towards Thorfinn. Charlie placed an arm to stop her. He moved his body into the space between Hermione and Thorfinn with a sneer. It was a protective move that she might have appreciated if he had been trying to keep her safe from someone who actually wanted to cause her harm.

"Good evening, Princess," Thorfinn greeted as if he Charlie hadn't just effectively yanked the woman away. " _Weasley_."

"Long time, Rowle," Charlie retorted before Hermione could say a word. "I think the last time I saw you I was stopping you from killing Hermione."

An almost savage grin crossed Thorfinn's face. If Hermione hadn't gotten to know a different side of him in the previous two weeks, she might have been afraid. Charlie's grip on her arm tightened. He carefully pushed her even further behind his frame. She didn't even have to look down to know that he had his wand out.

"That's right, Weasley. Course it's not very sporting to hex your opponent in the back."

Thorfinn sneered at the wand. He raised his left hand to expose the silver ring around his wrist.

"Also not very sporting to attack an unarmed man."

"Charlie, stop," Hermione begged. "He's not going to hurt me."

"Princess is right, Weasley. I've _changed_. Azkaban will do that."

The lift doors opened at that exact moment. Hermione wished desperately that Charlie wasn't there. This was turning out to be more awkward than even the first night she saw Thorfinn in the department. Charlie held Hermione back while Thorfinn pushed his bucket into the lift. The larger wizard actually laughed when he saw the way the redhead was attempting to protect the witch.

"Let go of me, Charlie," Hermione warned, ripping her arm out of his grasp.

She stepped into the lift after Thorfinn. Charlie just stood there outside the doors staring at the two people inside with an odd expression. After a few strained moments he stepped inside to join them. Hermione could hear Thorfinn chuckling quietly in the corner. The doors closed.

No one said a word until the lift opened on Level Three. Thorfinn pushed his bucket out into the Department for Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. He stopped before the doors closed again to wink at Hermione. She could feel Charlie's body tense.

"Good night, Princess."

The doors closed before Hermione could respond. Charlie waited only half a second to speak.

"What the fuck, Hermione?"

"Excuse me?"

"You actually _allow_ him to talk to you? I was under the impression that you were afraid of him. Harry and I had a long discussion the other night after you left. He told me what he knew about your past with him."

She quietly groaned. This was not a conversation she wanted to have ever. Of course he couldn't leave well enough alone. He grasped her upper arm to carefully force her to face him.

"You shouldn't be here so late. If I wasn't here, you would've been alone with him."

"I'm not in any danger, Charlie."

She attempted and failed to convince him of her safety within the walls of the Ministry the entire walk to the employee Apparition point just outside the Atrium. He met every point she made with an argument of his own. It was obvious that this was not going to be a topic of conversation that would just gradually die out on its own.

"I'm just worried about you, Mine," he said, stopping her from Apparating away in anger.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Charlie Weasley."

He visibly flinched at the harsh use of his full name. He had never been one to care for her temper.

"I know that," he muttered. "I just don't like thinking about you alone with _him_."

"Good night, Charlie."

She made to turn around, but was stopped again by his arm.

"Please don't be mad at me," he begged.

"Then stop treating me like a child."

Charlie placed both of his hands on her shoulders. When she didn't immediately shirk from the gesture, he wrapped his arms around her back to pull her body close to his chest. Hermione did not really want him to touch her because she was still angry, but she didn't push him away. His hands ran up and down her back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her curls. "I worry about you."

"Good night, Charlie."

She placed her hands on his chest to smoothly push him away. He seemed a bit offended by the movement. Hermione was too tired to care.

"Come to my new flat," he asked. "I have a couple of bottles of your favorite wine and you can tell me how much you hate my new furniture."

Once upon a time she would have jumped at that offer. A part of her still wanted to even though she made a promise to herself to not use Charlie as a crutch any longer. How was she ever supposed to move past their history together if she kept revisiting it whenever he batted his eyelashes?

"I don't think that's a good idea. Good night, Charlie."

She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. Seconds later she was in the alley behind her building.

* * *

Saturday

Hermione enjoyed a fairly lazy Saturday spent almost entirely in her pajamas. Too infrequently was she able to enjoy simply being at home with no worries about plans or an agenda. After the week she had, sleeping in until ten was bliss. A long, hot bubble bath soothed her strained and tired nerves.

She had been frustrated the night before that her daily meeting with Thorfinn was interrupted so spectacularly by Charlie. It was honestly surprising to her that Charlie hadn't let his temper get away from him by sending at least a tiny hex in the other wizard's direction. Her disagreement with Charlie left her lying up in bed for a long time replaying every single word that was spoken, every single touch was dissected. Life would be infinitely easier if she could just give in to have a relationship with Charlie. With him living in the same city they might actually even be able to make a solid go of it this time. His family was supportive. Her family would have been too if she still had one.

Her reluctance to spark up her previous arrangement with the former dragonkeeper was palpable. Something kept her from just giving in to what would be easier. A niggling feeling squirming around in her brain kept her aware that she wanted something… _else_. Weeks earlier she probably would've tripped over herself in her rush to visit Charlie's new flat, but everything felt different now.

She knew it had to do with Thorfinn. How bizarre that her life had changed so much that she was willingly throwing away an opportunity to be with a man she knew loved her for a chance to see what might happen with one she used to fear. Maybe she and Thorfinn were nothing but friends. The thought depressed her more than she was willing to admit.

By six o'clock that evening she had worked herself into a state. In much a similar manner as the previous Saturday, she was nervous. Digging through her closet searching for something appropriate to wear turned into a bloody nightmare. Was it really a date? Thorfinn said it was, but he might have just been teasing her. It was probably going to be just like it was the week before. They would share some amusing conversation over drinks for a couple of hours. It didn't have to be a date in the traditional sense of the word.

Five minutes before seven she stepped out of the darkened alley behind the pub. Thoughts of Thorfinn escorting her to the same place a week earlier made her flush slightly. They had been so close she was certain he was going to kiss her. She was almost positive that if he tried she wouldn't have pushed him away. Would she have a similar opportunity that evening? Part of her really hoped she would.

He was already seated at the bar halfway through a pint. His attention was focused in a spot somewhere behind the bar. She was standing next to him before he even realized she was in the room. A grin appeared the moment he saw her.

"I wasn't sure you would show up," he said, pulling out the stool next to him.

"I told you that regardless of whether or not Friday was the greatest day of my life I would still be here," she reminded him as she climbed onto the barstool. "Did you doubt my word?"

Thorfinn shrugged his shoulders. He signaled to the man pouring pints that he needed a couple more.

"Thought the speckled git might make you change your mind."

"Charlie doesn't have the ability to make me rethink my decisions. Not anymore at least."

"Old boyfriend?"

Her cheeks flushed at the innocent question. His laughter only made them flush hotter.

"And here I thought you had better taste in men than that, Princess."

"What gave you that impression?"

"Well, you like me."

She snorted, but didn't refute his statement. A pint was set in front of her that she gladly picked up for something to distract her mind from his smirk. After a few large sips and a deep breath, Hermione spun around in her seat to smile back.

"You have a rather high opinion of yourself, don't you?"

"I notice you haven't denied what I said, Princess."

"No, I guess I haven't."

She took another sip from her pint glass. Thorfinn leaned across the few inches separating their stools. His hand brushed her hair away from her ear. A shiver ran through her entire body at the simple contact. She could almost hear the smirk in his chuckle. When his mouth was just outside her ear, he whispered.

"I like you too. Very much."

Thorfinn sat back up to take a drink. Hermione tried unsuccessfully to ignore the heat in her cheeks and the goosebumps up and down her entire body from his warm breath on her neck. He grinned into his glass, watching her reaction from the corner of his eye. Hermione took a deep drink in an effort to calm her nerves.

"Is Weasley planning on making that a nightly routine?" Thorfinn asked a couple of minutes later.

"I hope not. That was a bit embarrassing."

"You realize that's my favorite part of my day, right?"

She was mortified that her cheeks blushed bright crimson again. _Get a hold of yourself, Granger! You are an adult, not a third year!_ Thorfinn seemed to find her reaction funny which only made her feel even more like an idiot.

"It's just a few minutes, but I look forward to them," he continued, tactfully choosing to ignore her discomfiture. "If I can make you laugh, I consider it a successful day."

"You usually can, even if it is just you being filthy."

"We all have our own special talents, Princess."

The evening passed with a surprising speed. There were very few awkward silences in their conversation. It seemed that when they were on a topic that interested them both, there was a great deal to say. Thorfinn forced her to order off the menu when he claimed he could hear her stomach growling over the other patrons and clinking glasses. Their conversation ran the gamut from incidents that happened while they were at school to the rehabilitative programs being introduced in Azkaban to favorite kinds of music and what Thorfinn was learning every day about the Muggle world.

"I'm telling you, Princess, she was lying to me!" Thorfinn insisted. "There is simply no way that she was telling me the truth."

"No, no, she was right, Thorfinn. She was absolutely right."

"Don't you dare lie to me too! There is simply no way that Natalie was right. She was just having a go with me."

Hermione laughed out loud at his continued insistence that his neighbor had been telling him falsehoods about the wonders of Muggle public transportation. He was adamant that there was simply no way a train system was present underneath the streets.

"How could Muggles put a _train_ underground? They don't even have magic."

"Drink up," she ordered, pointing to the half a pint he still had left.

Thorfinn knocked back the last of his drink in only a couple of swallows. It took Hermione a little bit longer to finish. As soon as her glass was empty, she hopped off of her barstool. He watched her with confusion apparent in his eyes. She pulled her coat on and reached for his hand.

"Come on," she said. "I'm going to prove to you Natalie was right."

He released her hand only long enough to put his arms in his own coat. Once it was on securely, he reached for her again. Hermione pulled him out of the pub into the cool night air. They only had to walk a couple of blocks before they arrived at a station.

"Right here," she declared. "You enter right there and take a moving staircase underground to wait for a train that will take you anywhere you want to go in the city. Well, most places anyway. Some you might have to take a bus too."

He still seemed reluctant to believe her words. Hermione found his lack of belief in the ingenuity of Muggles amusing in that circumstance instead of annoying. With his hand still grasped firmly in hers, she dragged him into the station. Several minutes later after a few quick lessons on how to use the escalator, how to purchase tickets and how to read the maps, they were standing on the platform waiting for the train. Thorfinn stared around his surroundings with an awed expression. When the train arrived, he stared down at Hermione with a sheepish grin.

"Looks like I was wrong."

"I'm pleased you can admit that," she teased.

When he seemed hesitant to approach the open door, Hermione took the lead. She guided him into the nearest car. At that time of a Saturday night the car was relatively empty. Because he had taken such a long time to gather up his courage to enter the car, they weren't seated before it started moving. Hermione was expecting the sudden lurch of the train and had taken hold of one of the vertical bars in the middle. Thorfinn almost fell backwards in the initial movement, but once he saw what Hermione was doing, he reached for the same bar. She gasped when she felt him press his body against her back.

"We can take a seat when the train stops," she suggested.

"I'm fine right where I am."

His breath tickled the back of her neck and her entire body shivered again. Thorfinn chuckled once more at her reactions. He seemed to be enjoying the effect he was having on her. Hermione was startled when his free hand rested on her hip.

"So where are you taking me, Princess?"

Hermione swallowed. She hadn't really considered her actions when she dragged him to the station. At least not consciously. His fingers began tenderly rubbing at the sensitive area just at the top of her thigh. Feeling uncharacteristically bold, she answered.

"My flat."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Thorfinn's hand squeezed Hermione's hip at the announcement that she was taking him back to her flat. The witch gasped just a bit at the increased pressure, but it was most assuredly not an unpleasant sensation. She did begin to wonder, however, if she had made a grave error in being so bold. What was he expecting to happen when they arrived? What was _she_ expecting to happen? If the swirling in the lower regions of her stomach were any indication, her biological functions were attempting to weigh in with their vote.

"And just why exactly are you wanting to take me to your flat?" he asked, his voice dropped low enough that it sounded almost like a purr in her ear.

 _Oh, so many extremely inappropriate reasons!_ She rotated enough to be able to meet his eyes wondering just when they had become so dark. She remembered them being a lighter blue. A cheeky grin crossed her mouth. His eyes dropped to stare at her lips.

"I thought it was about time you learned what a vacuum was," she answered. "You told me last week you didn't even know what one was. I just wanted to continue your education on Muggles."

His boisterous laughter rang through the half-empty car. Obviously he was not expecting that response, but was amused nonetheless.

"And I recall from our conversation last week that I was certain you could think of something more _enjoyable_ for us to do."

"Oh, vacuuming is very _enjoyable_. You will be surprised how much you come to enjoy it. Very relaxing activity. It can be quite soothing if you are stressed. You need to know how to clean more than just tile and marble floors."

Despite the teasing banter going back and forth between the unlikely couple, the heat was still present. His hand was tight on her hip with his long fingers tracing circular patterns on the top of her leg. More than once Hermione had to remind herself to take a breath. The feel of his left hand on her body and his right arm against her other side was making her mouth dry and other parts further south…

"All right," Thorfinn responded. "Teach me about vacuuming. I am a willing student. What is a vacuum?"

"It is a machine that Muggles use to clean carpet," she explained, trying hard to ignore the continued movement of his hand. "It is similar to a broom or a mop except that a little motor inside of it actually sucks the dirt up into a bag."

"The machine sucks the dirt out of the carpet?"

"Yes, it actually…"

Whatever she was about to say was cut off by a gasp escaping her mouth instead. In one swift movement, Thorfinn removed his hand from her hip, pushed her hair away from her neck and latched his mouth to the extremely sensitive juncture between neck and shoulder. His tongue flitted out to scarcely lick her exposed collarbone. The lightest pressure from his lips on the same spot was certain to leave a hint of a mark when he was finished. Hermione bit back a tiny moan when he removed the pressure and licked the spot again.

"Is the sucking similar to that?" he purred directly into her ear.

His voice was lower and huskier than she had ever heard it before. Hermione wondered if he was experiencing the same effects she was feeling coursing through her entire body. It took her just a moment to realize he had asked her a question. His mouth was still just outside the shell of her ear, distracting her thoughts every single time she felt his breath tickle.

"Very similar," she croaked out before clearing her throat. "Though not quite so gentle. It is a bit harsher."

"I don't always have to be so gentle, Princess."

Hermione's entire body shivered yet again that evening. His words held a promise that she was not sure what to do with exactly. _Though it will be fun to find out, won't it, Granger?_ Thorfinn stood back up tall, resting his hand back in the same place on her hip. Her brain felt a bit fuzzy after the unexpected public display. A quick scan of the car showed that none of the other passengers were paying them any mind. They all had their own lives to live. When the train stopped at the next station, she realized there was only one left before her stop. She tried to calm her racing heart at the thought that whatever was about to happen was not going to be as innocent as teaching a wizard about the mechanics of small Muggle cleaning appliances.

"We get off at the next stop," she announced, instantly regretting her choice of phrasing when the man behind her started to chuckle. "I mean, we _leave_ the train at the next station."

"I understood you perfectly the first time."

His grip tightened on her when the train started moving again. The few short minutes between stations felt an eternity with her heart pounding what had to have been a million beats a bloody second. When the train came to a stop at the station just a few blocks away from her flat, Hermione grew even more nervous. The doors opened on the car. She released her grip on the vertical bar and took a step towards the platform. Thorfinn was right behind her, reaching for her hand. Once clear of the train and across the yellow line she instructed him to never step in front of unless entering the car, he began a survey of his surroundings. Hermione could almost swear she could hear him repeating the name of the station under his breath a few times.

"This isn't so bad," he commented when they were back on another escalator. "Sort of like school, isn't it? At least I don't have a fear that I'm going to fall off the thing."

She smiled at his observation. More than once during her years at Hogwarts she had had the very same fear that she was going to topple off one of the moving staircases. It had been disconcerting for the Muggleborn witch to trust a magical staircase that would shift when she lease expected it. Somehow she found the knowledge that a Pureblood had similar concerns encouraging. Maybe they weren't all so very different after all.

The early February night air was chilly. Hermione pulled her coat tighter. There were still a few more blocks to walk before they arrived in the heat of her building. Thorfinn hardly said a word to her once outside of the station to her immense surprise. Somehow she expected him to spend the time spent on their walk engaged in inappropriate banter and teasing. Much like he was doing in the station itself, he appeared to be making a study of his surroundings. He paid close attention to the street signs when they made a turn onto another street.

They were standing in front of her building before she was quite ready. All of her earlier bravado while riding on the train disappeared when the reality that she was about to invite this man into her private home became apparent. Thorfinn stared up at the impressive building and let out a quiet whistle.

"Somehow I get the feeling that your flat is going to be a lot nicer than mine."

Hermione's cheeks flushed. She lived in a fairly fashionable section of the city. Certainly a safer area than the Ministry and Thorfinn's flat was located in. She had the benefit of a generous trust fund from her well-to-do parents. Even if they were living in Australia with no knowledge of ever having a daughter, they made certain to provide well for her before she obliviated them. Add in the impressive award money she received from being a receipient of an Order of Merlin, First Class for her acts during the war, she was doing well financially. Perks like a nice flat were part of the package.

"It's not very big," she muttered, feeling embarrassed.

She pushed in a code on the front door. Thorfinn's eyes did not miss a movement. A buzz sounded and she pulled the heavy door open. It was just after eleven. Most of the other residents were most likely already in bed despite it being a Saturday night. There were a great deal of elderly residents and a few small families. She and Pasha were the only two single, young professionals in the building.

They climbed the staircase to the first floor in silence, Thorfinn continuously taking in his surroundings. Hermione wondered if it had something to do with his years as a Death Eater. Was it a security precaution? Necessary to always be completely in tune and aware of what location he was in? It was an interesting thought that she filed away for later to ask.

She paused outside the door to her flat. Her hands were shaking as she dug in her pockets for her wand. Thorfinn wrapped both of his arms around her waist, pressing his body against her back yet again that evening. Hermione's heart rate increased. Her palms were sweaty. He leaned down to lay his cheek against the side of her head.

"I can go home, Hermione. I paid attention to how we got here."

She sighed, considering his offer quite seriously. Everything was moving very fast. In her past relationships she had not gotten to this point so quickly. If she opened that door and let him inside, there was no turning back. They would cross over a line that they couldn't uncross. It would be safer just to shake his hand and send him on his way. Less potential for getting hurt that way.

Also less potential for finding some measure of happiness in her somewhat depressing life.

Making up her mind, she unwarded her door with no further hesitation. Thorfinn released his hold on her to allow her to open the door. They stepped into the darkness of the empty flat. He closed the door behind them while she crossed over to a side table to turn on a light. The instant light spread across her flat, she wished she hadn't turned it on.

"I guess you weren't expecting company," the wizard joked, taking in the site of the very messy living room.

"Yes, well, I guess I wasn't."

Hermione waved her wand and muttered a few incantations. In only a couple of seconds the room was somewhat cleaner. At least she was almost positive that she no longer had any dirty laundry laying on any of the surfaces. She shrugged her coat off and hung it on a hook on the wall next to the door. Thorfinn followed her example.

"I was right," he announced. "Your flat is _much_ nicer than mine. My entire home can fit inside your kitchen."

He didn't wait for an invitation to take a look around the space. Hermione was immensely grateful that he was giving her some time to calm down from her near hysterics in the corridor. She walked into the kitchen while he examined her framed photographs on her bookshelves. Despite her few pints at the pub, she wanted a little bit more liquid courage. She removed a corkscrew from a drawer and opened a cupboard to pull down a couple of glasses.

She cursed the fact that she kept the wine glasses on the top shelf. Stepping up on her toes, she stretched up as high as she could reach. Her fingertips were barely brushing the stem of a glass when a large presence appeared at her back. Thorfinn easily plucked two glasses off of the top shelf. Hermione felt her face heat up yet again with his close proximity.

Her guest set the glasses down on the counter with a deafening clink. He stepped back a few inches to allow Hermione to turn around. She expected him to have moved further away than he had. Thorfinn placed both of his hands on her shoulders. She was reluctant to lift her eyes to meet his, afraid of what she might find staring back at her. Sensing her apprehension, Thorfinn lightly kissed her forehead before stepping back.

"What is this?" he asked, picking up the corkscrew.

"It opens wine bottles."

"Why not just use your wand? Isn't it easier?"

"Probably, but I still like to do things the Muggle way sometimes."

Thorfinn picked up the bottle of wine in his other hand. Hermione giggled when she saw the obvious confusion on his face as to how one would actually use the Muggle device. She took the bottle from him to set it back on the counter. A quick explanation on the use of the corkscrew and he was able to successfully open the wine. A broad grin across his face proved that he was excited to learn a new skill.

"Still would prefer to use a wand," he admitted. "But I guess for the next couple of years I don't have a choice."

He poured them both liberal glasses. They stood in the kitchen in silence sipping at their wine for a few minutes that felt much longer to Hermione. Thorfinn's eyes never once left the witch. Finally, she couldn't handle the attention. She picked up the bottle of wine and without a word, exited the kitchen. He found her already seated on the sofa and moved immediately to sit next to her.

"I won't lie, Princess. I am _very_ surprised to be inside your home right now."

"Why?" she asked, feeling a little bit of her lost confidence return with another gulp of the red wine. "Were you not confident in your persuasive abilities?"

"I might be woefully out of practice, but no, I'm still confident. I'm simply surprised because I wasn't even trying to get here tonight."

His hand not holding his wine glass reached across the small distance to mess with her curls. Hermione had always found a man running his hand through her hair to be soothing and this instance was no different. She found herself actually leaning into his hand to further encourage the action.

"I was surprised that you were so bold," he continued.

"So was I," she admitted.

Fearing that if she didn't take the next step she would never forgive herself, Hermione set her empty wine glass on the table next to the sofa. She reached across Thorfinn's broad chest to grasp his empty glass as well. When she turned back around to face him, she suppressed a full body shudder at the intensity in his deep blue eyes.

Thorfinn's lips were much softer than she expected. Somehow she anticipated that a man of his size with his impressive firm muscles and sheer power would be nothing but hard edges. Feeling his lips directly on hers was nothing like she predicted. He seemed to be in no rush to deepen the kiss, simply enjoying moving his mouth over hers. His hands found purchase in her thick hair on both sides of her head. She might have felt confined if she wasn't exactly where she wanted to be.

He softly groaned when her tongue slid across his bottom lip begging for permission to enter. Hermione was unused to taking the dominant role, but found quickly that she enjoyed it. Her hands slipped around his neck, pulling the man even closer. He tasted faintly of red wine and something sweet she couldn't quite place. Whatever it was, she found she had a new craving. His hands moved down her curves to land on her hips. One gentle tug brought her petite frame into his lap. She settled her legs on either side of his thighs.

Minutes passed of nothing more than tongues exploring mouths, hands exploring bodies. Hermione couldn't get enough of running her hands up and down his well-built arms and brawny shoulders. Thorfinn couldn't get enough of running his hands up and down her slim back and down to her firm arse. The first time he grew bold enough to squeeze she literally squeaked and jumped. A cheeky grin crossed Thorfinn's face that she immediately wanted to wipe off. She settled for grinding her core against the prominent bulge that had popped up at some point in their heated fumblings.

The grin immediately slipped off his face to be replaced with a low growl. His large hands tightened on her arse and thrust his hips upward, a promise of what he was capable of. Hermione could hardly breathe. The air between them had become rapidly charged. She was unbuttoning his shirt before her brain was aware of what her hands were doing. He seemed reluctant to allow her to remove the shirt, but in the end he released his hold on her long enough to rip his arms out of the sleeves. Sitting on her sofa in his tight fitted, short sleeved vest only made his bulky frame seem even larger.

Her eyes fell on a series of tattooed runes and numbers at the base of his neck. Ordinarily covered by his collar, she was surprised to see the mark that all Azkaban prisoners were forced to wear. She stretched her hand towards it to feel it under her fingers. Thorfinn's hand grasped hers before she could make contact. Immediately she felt ashamed of her curiosity. Obviously it was not something he was proud of. Much like the incident the previous week when he showed the tip of his Dark Mark and was self-conscious by her gaze, he was embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, dropping her eyes from his.

A few uncomfortable seconds passed before Thorfinn dropped her hand. He leaned forward to tenderly kiss her forehead.

"No, I'm sorry," he replied. "I'm not proud of that. Or this."

He lifted his left arm to expose his faded Dark Mark. Her morbid, unquenchable curiosity meant that her eyes sought the symbol of his foolish mistake out. She had never seen one so close. When Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy were arguing with each other as to who would get to summon Voldemort with their Mark, she wasn't exactly in a position to get a good look. Thorfinn's cheeks were bright red at the attention. Hermione turned her focus back to his face. Their eyes clapped on to each other. She pushed his arm down as she pressed her lips back to his. For several long minutes she tried to get his attention off of his humiliation. It seemed to work until she kissed down his jaw and down to his neck. One swipe of her tongue across the hated tattoo brought his hands to her shoulders. He gently pushed her back.

"Please don't, Hermione," he begged.

"Do you have any other tattoos?" she asked, hoping to lessen the tension.

"No. I promised myself that after I got this one…" He ran his fingers across the runes. "I would never mark my body again."

She hated how mortified he seemed in that moment. Gone was the super confident wizard that used to swagger down the hallways of Hogwarts expecting everyone he met to step out of his way. Even the cocky man who pushed a mop across the floors of the Ministry had more self-assurance than this man.

Hermione did something drastic. She pulled her warm jumper over her head and threw it on the floor. Thorfinn's eyes widened at the unexpected motion. She still had a silky camisole on over her lacy bra, but a great deal of skin was suddenly exposed. Hermione pushed her own scarred arm in front of his face. Even after ten years the hateful word that Bellatrix carved into her skin was still very visible. His eyes grew even wider when he realized what he was looking at. He grasped her arm in one hand and used the other to run his fingers over the slur she always tried to keep hidden under sleeves or glamours.

"Where did you get this, Princess?" His tone was almost pained.

"Malfoy Manor," she answered. "Bellatrix tortured me. She promised to give me to Greyback when she was done. She also gave me this."

Her fingers sought out the scar on her neck. Thorfinn removed his fingers from her arm to trace the scar on her throat. Hermione reached for the bottom of her camisole and ripped it over her head to join the jumper on the floor. He actually gasped when he saw the angry looking scar that crossed her torso.

"Antonin Dolohov," she stated before he could ask. Department of Mysteries in my fifth year. He almost killed me. Hit me with some nasty curse. I was able to cast a silencing charm on him before he struck me. Otherwise I firmly believe I would be dead."

He seemed timid about reaching out to trace the scar that started just above her left breast and ended at her right hipbone. She grabbed his hand to place it on the top of her scar. For the first few of inches until they got past her bra, she guided him until he took over to trace down to her hip. At the end of her scar, he reached for her arm again. His lips pressed against the carved scar with a surprising tenderness.

"It looks like we both have scars," she said.

"No, _you_ have scars. I have reminders of my poor decisions."

Hermione kissed him again. She didn't know how to respond to him, but she knew how to distract him from depressing thoughts. They returned to much the same place they had been before she removed his shirt except this time with more skin exposed their actions grew a little more heated. His hands found the clasp of her bra and with surprising dexterity removed the offending garment. When his mouth closed over her hardened nipple, she almost screamed. He repeatedly had to stop in the middle of lavishing her breasts with attention to just groan and catch his breath. She teased him in those moments by grinding against him.

"You are playing with fire, little witch," he growled.

"I'm not afraid."

To reinforce the brazenness she was currently experiencing, she slipped off of his lap. Thorfinn reached for her, but she pushed his hands away. She slid down his legs until she was on the floor. He stared down at her without blinking, almost as if he was afraid that closing his eyes for a single second would mean he was dreaming. Hermione skimmed her hands up his muscular thighs. Unbuttoning his trousers was difficult with her shaking hands, but with his help she was able to release his rather impressive member from the confines of his pants. Grasping it one hand, she kept her eyes fixed firmly on the man above. Before she could do what she had planned, Thorfinn gripped both of her wrists. He stood and pulled her up to her feet.

"Princess, I haven't been with a woman in over ten years," he declared, his voice gruff. "I'm afraid I'm going to embarrass myself."

Hermione placed her arms around his neck to pull him down for a deep kiss.

"You will have all night to redeem yourself if necessary."

With little effort, he picked up the tiny witch and carried her into the bedroom.

* * *

Sunday

Every single muscle in Hermione's body ached when she opened her eyes just before noon. It had been a very long night. After their first frenzied coupling that ended much sooner than either one of them was ready for, they spent the rest of the night exploring each other's bodies and learning how to make the other sing. It was sometime after four in the morning that Hermione gently reminded Thorfinn that he didn't have to make up for ten years all in one night. He laughed and spooned up behind her much smaller frame. They both fell asleep only minutes later.

His deep, steady breathing proved that Thorfinn was still asleep when she awoke. She carefully slipped out from under the covers trying not to wake him. A few minutes later when she climbed back into bed his arms sought her out. He drew her back against his chest and began to nuzzle her curls with his cheeks. Hermione sighed. It had been a long time since she last shared a bed with a man. It was an experience she could gladly get used to.

"Any regrets about last night, Princess?"

The vulnerability and insecurity in his tone tugged a bit at her heart. She dropped a kiss on the forearm laid across her chest.

"None at all. Do you have any?"

"Absolutely not!"

They continued to lay there without speaking for a long time. Both of them just needed the safety and security of sharing a bed with another person in that moment. Hermione's mind travelled to the previous weekend when she struggled to pull herself out of bed. Her thoughts had repeatedly betrayed her by forcing her to imagine what it would be like to have a warm, muscular, naked man in her bed that looked suspiciously like the warm, muscular, naked man cuddled up behind her. She couldn't stop a little laugh from escaping. Thorfinn's arms tightened slightly at the sound.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"I was just thinking. Guess it won't do any harm to admit it now, but last Saturday morning I was lying in bed alone…"

"How depressing."

"Yes, it was really. Anyway, I was lying here thinking about how nice it would be to not be alone in bed. My mind kept fantasizing and despite my wishes not to think this way, _you_ were the one I kept imagining."

His quiet laughter made her cheeks burn just a tiny bit. He kissed the back of her head before responding.

"If we are making confessions, I suppose I should admit that this exact scenario and quite a few we enjoyed last night as well have all been frequent fantasies of mine lately."

"When did they start?"

"Oh, fairly certain I had my first one when I was back in my flat after seeing you for the first time again."

"That long, huh?"

"Hard to believe it's only been a couple of weeks. Seems like longer."

She couldn't argue with his observation. The past two weeks had been filled with one unusual event after another. She had grown used to weeks passing by that looked just like the week before. Any amount of change was cause for concern.

"I wish we could stay right here for a couple of weeks," she teased.

"As long as we both remain naked, I have no objections."

"Too bad we both have jobs."

"Fuck our jobs. Let's stay naked."

Hermione spun around in his arms to face him. Thorfinn pressed his lips firmly against hers for a few moments. She snuggled up to his bare chest, peppering the skin she could reach with a few kisses.

"I wish I could just say 'fuck this job'," she sighed. "That would be nice."

"Why do you hate your job so much?"

"Maybe it's the politics of the whole thing I don't like. There's a game everyone is expected to play, but I feel like I don't know the rules. Even if I did know them, I'm not sure I'd want to play. My boss is a nightmare. He actually told me the other day that he was going to enjoy making my life hell."

His arms tensed around her just a bit tighter at her confession.

"Everyone tells me that I should exploit my friendship with the Minister to get a more prestigious job. Even Kingsley has asked me more than once if I wanted his help."

"Why don't you? Surely with a word from him you could do just about anything you wanted."

"Maybe, but I don't know. I'm sure it seems silly. Since I was eleven years old I have been trying to prove my own worth in this world by my own merit. I was obsessive about my grades in school because I never wanted anyone to tell me that I didn't belong because I am Muggleborn. Maybe it's irrational but I don't want to just be _handed_ something I didn't earn simply because the Minister for Magic enjoys gossiping with me and we once battled Death Eaters from the back of a thestral together. It would seem wrong somehow. Make all of my hard work worthless."

Thorfinn's hand found its way into her riotous curls. He was careful not to snag his fingers through the tangles. Her hair was always a nightmare first thing in the morning. Considering their activities hours earlier, she could only imagine how terrible it looked.

"I can understand that," he replied. "If I was in your position I think I would use my friendship with the Minister, but I understand your reluctance."

"So I guess I'm stuck in that horrible department with those horrible people who hate me for the foreseeable future. Some days I wish I could just hex them all."

"Why don't you? They sound dreadful."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"I'm tired of fighting. I feel like I've been fighting my entire life. Maybe it makes me weak."

"Princess, you are anything but weak. Just because you are tired of being strong all of the time doesn't make you weak. It just makes you tired."

He carefully forced her chin up to kiss her again. Before they could even think about going any further, they were interrupted by the sound of Hermione's stomach growling. Thorfinn laughed against her mouth and pulled away.

"Do you have anything to eat? I'm hungry too even if my stomach isn't quite so vocal about it."

"No, I'm afraid I've been needing to do some shopping for a while now. I could get something delivered."

"I'm just going to borrow your shower while we wait if you don't mind."

Half an hour later Hermione was wrapped in a robe waiting for lunch to be delivered. Her question on whether or not Thorfinn liked long showers was answered when he remained in her bathroom with the water running for an extensive period. She was half-tempted to join him but stopped herself when she reminded herself she would be unable to hear the intercom buzz. They were likely to get distracted again if not careful.

Thorfinn came walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist just as there was a knock at the door. Hermione thought it strange that her flat hadn't been buzzed first, but simply assumed that another resident must have been leaving or coming back when the delivery person arrived. She crossed the room in just a few strides. Without even verifying who was on the other side of the door, she pulled it wide open.

Charlie Weasley stood in the corridor holding a paper sack with her favorite restaurant's logo printed on the outside. He used to surprise her with lunch when he was visiting from Romania. Hermione tried to pull the door closed behind her, but the damage had already been done. Charlie's eyes were wide and focused on the tall blonde clad only in a towel.

"Are you _fucking_ serious, Hermione?!"

* * *

 _Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed the last few chapters. It's meant a great deal to me. I'm loving that everyone seems to be liking this story. I can't believe that I've posted three chapters in essentially three days (I haven't gone to bed yet, so I'm still considering this Monday). Sorry to leave it on a cliffhanger, but I think I need a few days. : )_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Hermione sincerely worried that Charlie was in the process of having a stroke. She was more than just a little familiar with the infamous Weasley temper. Charlie most certainly had not managed to escape its clutches. Usually the fieriness in his temper made for some enjoyably passionate encounters, but in that moment his sheer rage was tangible.

He threw the paper sack he was holding against the far wall of the living room. Hermione's stomach protested at the sight of her favorite soup pooling on her carpet in a delicious puddle. She was certain the growling could be heard over Charlie's continued ranting.

"You're better than this, Hermione!" Charlie shouted. "Better than him."

She pinched the bridge of her nose and reminded herself to breathe. Attempting to argue with a Weasley in this state was counter-productive. She was all too aware that they had to let their feelings be known before she could interject. Thorfinn stood in the doorway leading to the bedroom witnessing the spectacle with an amused expression on his face. Hermione had to suppress another groan at _his_ behavior. No doubt he was feeling overly cocky and self-assured with his own position. After all, he was the one naked in her flat but for a towel.

"He's a fucking Death Eater, Hermione! And he tried to kill you more than once."

"That's enough, Charlie!" she retorted, already weary of his argument. "None of this is any of your business."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Still none of your business."

Charlie ran both of his hands through his shaggy locks. With the exception of the day she witnessed him berate an inexperienced dragonkeeper for not closing a secured paddock correctly and facilitating the escape of three tiny hatchlings, Hermione had never seen him _this_ angry. Maybe she misjudged his feelings for her. Or maybe he was one of those who couldn't look past a person's past and still saw him as a masked, hooded Dark wizard with allegiance to Voldemort. He could be hard to read.

"Did you cast the Imperius Curse on her?" Charlie demanded.

His question only served to make Thorfinn snort. He held up his bare left arm, not even bothering to hide his faded Dark mark, to show Charlie the silver ring around his wrist for the second time.

"I assure you, Weasey, even if I _could_ perform the Imperius Curse on Hermione, I wouldn't. Absolutely nothing happened last night that she wasn't begging for."

Hermione covered her eyes with her hands and groaned. Were they about to both resort to their primal natures and attempt to mark her as theirs? One raised leg and she was hexing bits off.

"I will not take a witch without her consent."

It was Charlie's turn to snort in derision at the other man's comment.

"You must have been quite the wet blanket at your Dark revels."

"Charlie, that's enough."

His head shot in her direction at the sound of his name. The feral look in his blue eyes almost frightened her. His red hair was sticking up in places and she could feel the raw power radiating off him in waves. She quickly stepped away from him, not wishing to be as close to him as she was.

"Did you find yourself another lost cause, Hermione? Another pathetic creature you thought needed your help?"

Hermione was across the room and in his ruddy face before she was aware she was even moving again. Earlier she had been anxious to put distance between them. Now she wanted to be as close as possible. Her palm met his cheek with a satisfying slap. Charlie's eyes widened and his breath hitched. She could almost swear she heard chuckling behind her.

"How dare you, Charlie?"

When asked later to describe in detail everything she shouted at the wizard, Hermione found her mind a blank. It all happened so quickly. Perhaps she had years of frustration built up towards the man that she hadn't realized. She might have gone on indefinitely shouting about his insincerity and his horrible fucking timing if a sheepish looking Pasha hadn't stepped through her still open door carrying her ordered lunch.

"Pasha, what…"

He crossed the space ignoring the other two men with as diplomatic an air as possible. Hermione was humiliated. She took the food out of his hands without meeting his eyes.

"I paid the delivery," he explained. "I would suggest you lower your voices or cast silencing charm. There are concerns from other residents."

She thanked him for his gentle recommendation. Slipping Muggle money in his hands to pay him back for her lunch, she led him back to the front door. There seemed to be nothing but concern in Pasha's eyes. As quietly as possible, he asked her if she was all right. His eyes were freely moving back and forth between the two wizards locked in an intense staring contest. Hermione thanked him again and assured him she was perfectly safe as she shut the door in his face.

"Are we prepared to discuss this like rational adults?" she asked.

It was a mistake. Charlie was never pleased to have his own childish behavior pointed out. So very much like Ron at times.

"What were you thinking, Hermione?"

At least he wasn't yelling though she suspected his jaw would be tender with how tightly he was clenching his teeth.

"Once again, Charlie, I was thinking that this is none of your business."

"None of my business?! I moved back for _you_. I love…"

"I didn't ask you to."

She cut him off before he could make the confession she would've given anything to hear just a short time ago. To further her point, she continued.

"I gave up any hope of having a future with you over a year ago when I left Romania."

"Well, I was an idiot."

Thorfinn's snort was not helping matters. She gave him a harsh look that was easily interpreted.

"I want that future now, Mine."

Hermione turned away from Charlie. She walked the few steps needed to stand next to Thorfinn.

"I'm not available, Charlie."

Buoyed by her statement, an even more confident Thorfinn placed his arm around Hermione's waist. If they thought that Charlie had been angry before the announcement that she was freely allowing herself to be swept up in a former Death Eater's arms, they had been woefully naïve. Steam could have come out of Charlie's ears and neither of them would have been surprised.

"I _knew_ there was something strange going on the other night. So you want a future with a Death Eater who tried to kill you?"

She was already even more exhausted by this discussion than she had been earlier when it began. A Weasley could beat a thestral to death, resurrect it only to beat it to death again and then keep on beating. How any member of that family was able to ever concede an argument was a mystery. Hermione stalked across the room towards Charlie with her hand firmly grasping her wand. Thorfinn's pleas to not do anything foolish were completely disregarded.

Charlie had been on the wrong end of Hermione's wand before. It had been several years, but he learned the hard way to never discount the younger witch. She could be bloody vicious if necessary. His wand was out, ready to duel the woman if necessary.

"I want you to leave, Charlie."

Her words were terse and spoken through clenched teeth. Charlie's eyes narrowed at the demand. Sparks were falling out of his wand. The unintentional bursts of magic were scaring Hermione. She was afraid that he was going to do something rash.

"Did you not hear what she said, Weasley!? Get the fuck out!"

A white flash shot out of the end of Charlie's wand, striking Thorfinn directly in the chest. Instantly the burly wizard hit the ground, struggling to catch his breath. Hermione screamed, but had the presence of mind to disarm Charlie before more damage could be done. She ran to Thorfinn's side.

"What did you do, Charlie?" she demanded, unsure where to even begin to help the man fighting to breathe.

"Just a… _sting-ing_ … jinx… _Princ…ess_ ," Thorfinn struggled to get out.

She muttered the counter curse. Instantly he was able to breathe regularly. It was a usually fairly innocuous spell, but striking him straight in the lungs caused them to swell and burn. Even with the counter curse, he remained lying on the floor gasping for air. Hermione couldn't believe Charlie had been so vicious. She glared up at his wide, blue eyes.

Before she could berate her former paramour, there was a loud pounding at the front door. Everyone froze in place unsure what to do. Hermione jumped to her feet just as the door was blown off of its hinges. At least three aurors and two obliviators stormed into her flat. The three occupants were all shocked by the abrupt arrival of the Ministry officials. None more so than Charlie when he was hit with an _incarcerous_ spell the instant he was spotted.

"Charles Weasley, you are under arrest for the unlawful use of magic against a squib," announced an auror Hermione recognized, but whose name escaped her.

"What?" Charlie demanded, confused and frightened.

"You must surrender your wand for safekeeping, Mr. Weasley. Where is it?"

Hermione reluctantly handed his wand to the auror. Murmurs from the members of the DMLE reached her ears despite their attempts to keep silent. They were debating whether or not it was prudent to inform Harry Potter of the incident. The group seemed to be split right down the middle. Two wanted to leave him alone. It was Sunday afternoon after all. Two more thought it necessary that he be made aware of the situation at once. The final deciding vote was unsure.

"I don't think it's necessary to bother Harry," Hermione declared.

The last thing she needed was the Chosen One storming through the front door of her flat to find a virtually naked Death Eater sprawled on her floor and his brother-in-law the culprit. Wasn't it bad enough that this incident was likely to be all over the Ministry the next morning?

"A domestic dispute involving his brother-in-law at his best friend's home would be something that Head Auror Potter would be interested in," replied one of the wizards voting in favor of contacting him.

Hermione knelt back down at Thorfinn's side. He was breathing regularly at that point. His chest was still bright red with angry welts. She waved her wand over him to clear up what she could. Healing spells had never been her specialty, but unfortunately, she did have some experience.

"Are you all right?" she asked, trying to ignore the knowing looks from the men around the room. Thorfinn's Dark Mark was clearly on display. No one present could be confused by who or at least _what_ he was.

"I'm okay, Princess. Just sore. Probably going to have some wicked bruises," he answered. Catching the eye of the aurors and obliviators, he was obviously annoyed. "Oi, you mind looking somewhere else? _I'm_ not ashamed of what I've got under this towel, but I wouldn't want you lot to be jealous."

They were respectful enough to avert their gaze while Hermione helped him up. He kissed the top of her head in gratitude. Just as he resolved to go into the other room to get dressed, a frantic Harry Potter entered the flat. Hermione groaned at the intrusion. Any hopes of keeping this incident quiet were gone in the instant she heard Harry's voice demand a report. She didn't miss how his emerald green eyes enlarged at the sight of Thorfinn in nothing but a towel. It lasted only a second before he was back in full Head Auror mode. Thorfinn slipped into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

"Why wasn't I informed about this incident immediately?" Harry demanded.

"We wanted to, sir, but there was a disagreement amongst the ranks," answered the auror holding Charlie's wand. He was apparently the one in charge of the mission.

"Let me make this easy for you then," Harry continued, his frustration apparent. "You are to inform me of _any_ incident involving a member of my family _immediately_."

A chorus of 'yes, sir's resounded through the flat. Harry turned to face his shamed brother-in-law. Charlie didn't want to meet his gaze, choosing instead to drop his eyes to the floor.

"This is a serious charge, Charlie. What were you thinking?"

He didn't have an answer good enough to satisfy the Head Auror. Harry ordered Charlie remanded to the Ministry holding cells with a promise that he would be along shortly to take down his statement. Charlie couldn't meet Hermione's gaze either as he was escorted out of her flat. The wizard was humiliated. Hermione couldn't help but be pleased by his seeming remorse. He might not have been ashamed of his actions, but he was certainly ashamed he had been caught.

The door to the bedroom opened. Hermione felt Thorfinn's comforting presence at her back. She turned to give him an encouraging half-smile. Most of the color had returned to his usually fair complexion. At least he no longer appeared to be almost purple as he had for a few harrowing moments on the floor. His hand rested on her shoulder. She appreciated the gesture of support as her best friend approached them.

Harry had his official "Auror face" on during the first few minutes of his statement taking. Hermione hated how formal he was being, but understood it was necessary.

"First of all, Mr. Rowle, do you require any medical assistance? We can summon a healer here immediately."

"No, I'm all right," he answered.

"Would you care to give me a thorough description of the events that led to your cursing?"

"Harry, is this necessary?" Hermione asked. "Wouldn't you rather ask one of the other aurors to interview him?"

Her best friend gave her a tight smile before turning back to Thorfinn. Obviously he was not anxious to turn over the duties of collecting the victim's statement to anyone else. She worried that perhaps he was in the midst of a conflict of interest that would do nothing but make the entire situation even more complicated.

"It was simply a disagreement," Thorfinn answered. "I don't wish to press any charges. Can we just forget this whole thing?"

"A wizard attacking a squib is a serious offense, Mr. Rowle."

"Please stop calling me that," he begged in a whisper. "It's not permanent. I'm still a wizard."

"Until your magic is unbound after the first two years of your parole, Mr. Rowle, you are officially considered a squib. That is what makes this attack so serious."

Thorfinn was trying very hard not to let Harry's words upset him, but Hermione felt like she knew him well enough by then to know when he was embarrassed. Only the tiniest hint of pink showed on his cheeks. She could only imagine how emasculated he must feel in that moment to be reminded of the loss of something that was so core to his being. Not caring that Harry was likely confused and probably upset by the parolee's presence in her flat, Hermione reached over to grasp his hand in hers. Thorfinn seemed surprised by the gesture at first, but a quick squeeze and a short smile let her know he was grateful.

"Was the attack unprovoked?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes at their joined hands.

"I was on the other side of the room, if that's what you mean," Thorfinn answered. "Hermione asked him to leave. He wouldn't leave. I _firmly_ suggested he leave. Then he jinxed me."

"You did not attack him physically?"

"Harry, no! He didn't. Charlie wouldn't leave after I asked him to leave. Thorfinn _reminded_ him that I asked him to leave and Charlie jinxed him. It was bad. Right to the chest. Thorfinn couldn't breathe."

"So it's _Thorfinn_ now?" Harry asked quietly enough that only the couple was able to hear. "Seems to me there is a lot more going on here than I'm aware of. We can discuss that later."

Harry stared back down at the small notebook he had been recording Thorfinn's statement in.

"Were you sincere in your wish that no charges be brought against Mr. Weasley?" Harry was back to his Auror tone.

"Yes," Thorfinn answered. "Just let the bloke go. We had a disagreement. If I had my wand, it would've been a fair match. I've been hexed by Weasley more times than I can even remember. We were at Hogwarts for six years at the same time after all."

"All right. I will put in my official report that you do not wish to press charges. Mr. Weasley will be released from custody as soon as I return to the Ministry. Thank you for your cooperation."

Harry spun around in place, not even meeting Hermione's eyes. She could only imagine the conversation she was likely to have with him in the near future about just what in the hell he had witnessed in her home. He ordered the obliviators to visit every flat in the building except for the one next door to modify memories. Then he ordered the aurors to repair the damage they made to Hermione's door. With a curt nod in her direction, Harry swept out of the flat.

"How were you even aware that something happened here?" she asked one of the remaining aurors.

"One of your Muggle neighbors reported a domestic disturbance to the Muggle pleezemen," the auror explained. "We intercepted the call when we realized who was involved. She said your name specifically, Miss Granger. The ring around his wrist does more than just binds his magic. There's a tracking spell on it and there's also a spell that alerts us immediately if anyone uses any kind of offensive magic against him."

"What?! Why is that necessary?"

She wished that she had asked Thorfinn more questions about the conditions of his parole. Apparently there was a lot she didn't understand.

"As you can imagine, Miss Granger, there have been some protests against parole. It was decided that this would be one way we could keep the parolees safer."

"We're finished here," announced another auror when the door was back in place.

The moment the door shut behind the exiting members of the DMLE, Hermione felt an overwhelming urge to cry. She tried to choke down a sob, but Thorfinn wasn't fooled. His arms enveloped her in moments. It had been an emotional afternoon. She still couldn't believe that Charlie had attacked Thorfinn.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Nothing to apologize for, Princess," he assured her. "Come on. I know what will make you feel better."

He led her into her oversized bathroom.

"I haven't seen a bathtub this large since Hogwarts," Thorfinn said, reaching down to turn on the taps.

"It was part of the reason why I chose this flat," she admitted. "I love baths."

"Looks to me like this one is more than big enough for two."

His wink made her laugh. Yes, it was most definitely large enough for two. She bit her tongue to prevent announcing that she and Charlie had figured that out already. They had used it to their advantage too. _Many_ times. No, she just smiled as he poured way too much bubble bath under the running water. When the water was steaming up the mirrors and the bathtub full, he untied the belt holding her robe together. One tug brought the garment to a puddle on the floor. He helped her climb into the tub. Moments later he slipped in behind her. She finally allowed herself to relax with her back against his chest.

"It's been a strange weekend, hasn't it?" teased Thorfinn. "Didn't expect to be in a bathtub with a beautiful woman when I woke yesterday morning anyway."

"Yeah, it's definitely been odd."

She sighed. Thorfinn put his arm around her chest and kissed the top of her head. The curls at her neck were already starting to frizz from the steam hanging in the air. He used his free hand to pull at them, watching them spring back when released. Her hair fascinated him.

"What are you worried about?" he asked.

"I'm worried how the rest of the Weasleys will react to what happened today. Charlie was arrested for Merlin's sake! Will they all behave so irrationally when they find out what's going on between us?"

"I imagine many of them will react just like he did. I'm sure this won't be the last time I'm hexed by a member of that family."

She spun around just enough that she could look him in the face. There were still red welts on his chest. The hot water would likely help with any pain he might still be experiencing. Maybe he wasn't being completely selfless when he suggested a bath. She allowed him to cover her lips with his for the briefest of moments. When they broke the kiss, she turned back around to lay her head on his chest.

"I obliviated my parents," she stated with as little emotion as possible. Thorfinn tensed slightly behind her. "I did it to keep them safe. I knew they would be a target. When the war was over and Voldemort was dead, I found them again in Australia. The spell was irreversible. I think I knew that all along, but wanted to believe that I could bring them back."

"That was extremely brave and selfless, Princess. They _were_ targets." His arms tightened around her chest. "I was sent to their house with Dolohov and Selwyn to torture and kill them. I'm very glad they weren't there."

He kissed the top of her head once more. She wasn't surprised by his admission. Well, she was surprised that he'd _actually_ admitted to her that he was ordered to kill her parents, but she wasn't surprised to learn that he had been given that order. There were times that she regretted that she hadn't been completely honest with her parents about the danger that she was in and by extension, they were too. She sighed. Life was too short for regrets. She couldn't go back in time to correct her mistakes.

"The Weasleys are my only family," she explained. "My Muggle family was never very large. Both of my parents were only children and all of my grandparents are dead."

"Family isn't everything," he replied. "Sometimes your family causes you more pain than anyone else."

"What is your family like?"

It was Thorfinn's turn to sigh. He released a loud exhale at her question. Several silent moments passed before he spoke.

"My father was a tyrant and a bully. Horrible man. Much older than my mother. Died the year before I took the Mark. He would've _hated_ you, Princess."

"Because I'm Muggleborn?"

Thorfinn snorted.

"Oh, no, the Rowles might be a Sacred Twenty-Eight family, but blood purity has never been a big issue. No, he hated strong women. He wanted to break spirited women."

"What about your mother? Was she a strong woman?"

"Mum was really sweet, but very weak. Not magically. She probably could've outdone Father in just about anything, but she was certainly not spirited. Maybe she had been when she was younger. My great-grandmother Mags was actually the one that raised her. My grandparents died in an accident when she was very young. Mags was a tiny, little witch with a great deal of power and a fiery spirit. I fear Mum was likely broken by the time I was born."

"How sad."

"He loved Reinie though. She was quiet and meek and afraid of her own shadow. Exactly how witches were supposed to be. He used to tell me to stay away from girls who were confident. 'Pick the quiet, shy, chubby one, son. She will know her place and not give you any trouble'."

Hermione couldn't help but giggle at his father's archaic advice. It reminded her of that horrible song that always got stuck in her head. _If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life/Never make a pretty woman your wife._ She shook her head to prevent the catchy tune from getting stuck.

"Did you ever heed his advice?"

Thorfinn laughed.

"I've loved women of all shapes and sizes, Princess, but _none_ of them have been weaklings. None of them have been fools."

"I highly doubt that. How many times in your seventh year did I accidentally walk in on you and Calliope Smith shagging in the Astronomy tower or in the boathouse? She's one of the biggest idiots I've ever met."

"I _shagged_ her, I didn't _love_ her. Big difference."

During her very first week at Hogwarts Hermione felt out of place. The other girls in her dormitory weren't very friendly. They thought she was odd. The boys in her House were rude. Classes had been wonderful, but she was feeling dreadfully homesick. Not having friends was something she had been used to since she was a very small child. A lot of children thought she was odd. She hoped that finding out she was a witch and coming to a school with other children like her would be the answer to all of her problems. It had been disappointing to find out that wasn't the truth.

She wandered into the massive library in the middle of the lunch hour. Eating one more meal with people who didn't like her and thought her a know-it-all pest was too much for her that day. She loved how calm the ancient library with its countless books could make her feel. Because she wasn't searching for a specific book, she wandered past the Restricted Section into a little used section of the substantial room. There were private study rooms and many dark corners. It was in one of those dark corners in a little used section on Alchemy that she stumbled upon a seventh year Slytherin boy in a _delicate_ position with a sixth year Ravenclaw girl.

"What about the girl in the library?" Hermione asked, her mind slipping back to the day she met the wizard. "When all of this mess started between us?"

Thorfinn's deep chuckle behind her made a smile cross her face. She could look back on the moment seventeen years later without feeling too humiliated.

"Lottie was brilliant and feisty as hell. She was just embarrassed to be caught by a firstie with my cock in her mouth. Not a fool. I just handled that situation very wrong. _I_ was the fool. Started bulling some annoying little first year after that."

Hermione playfully pinched him. The moment she realized what she was witnessing in the library, she screamed, bringing Madam Pince the librarian to the area immediately. Thorfinn was caught quite literally with his pants down. He had almost been expelled. If it hadn't been for a very persuasive Professor Snape who was his Head of House, he would've been gone. Instead of thinking rationally like most seventeen year old boys struggle with, he turned his frustrations on the innocent first year that accidentally interrupted his private moments.

He would follow her around the castle, waiting until she was alone to try to make her cry. In the beginning he wasn't successful. It was obvious that it was frustrating for him. He taunted her early on when she wouldn't cry in front of him that she was as puffed-up and snobby as a Muggle princess. Unfortunately, it stuck. She used to sob in the empty, dark alcoves around the castle every time he called her Princess. It had such negative connotations when she was younger that she was surprised she almost reveled in the name now.

"I was a dumb, cocky arsehole. I regret being so cruel to you."

"I wasn't looking for an apology," she responded.

"No, but I _am_ sorry. Is there anything I can do now to make up for it?"

"You made a pretty good start last night."

His lips descended on the back of her neck causing her entire body to erupt into delicious goosebumps.

"No, not nearly enough. I was very cruel. I have _lots_ to atone for."

* * *

 _Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who took the time to review! I've been loving each and every review. They've been wonderful. I needed a few days off to spend with my own Thorfinn and deal with the icky part of real life. I can't promise three chapters in three days again, but I've been diligently outlining this story. I've been so excited to keep writing._


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Monday

The alarm blaring on Hermione's nightstand woke her up from what must have been pleasant dreams. It was unfortunate that when she had struggled with insomnia and recurring nightmares for so long, she had to force herself to wake up from one of the best night's sleep she could remember having. Several moments passed of the cacophonous buzzing without Hermione even fully being aware of what was happening. Next to her in bed she heard a muffled grumbling. She could sympathize.

Hermione reached across the bed to turn the alarm off with a disgruntled sigh. Large arms wrapped around her back and pulled her into a satisfyingly firm chest. Soft kisses were placed into the mutinous mess she called hair. If Thorfinn once teased that he liked her 'just shagged hair', she wondered how he felt about her hair first thing in the morning.

Despite all of the unpleasantness of the previous afternoon, they had been able to have what amounted to one of the most wonderful days Hermione could remember having for quite some time. Following their joint bath they spent a few hours back in the bedroom. Thorfinn seemed determined to make up for his past treatment of her in some of the most deliciously imaginable ways he could think of. They both needed an extra long nap afterwards. When he only half-heartedly suggested that he go back to his own flat Sunday evening, she told him 'no' and proceeded to teach him what the fascinating black box in her living room was for. Ten minutes into watching, Hermione feared she might have introduced the Pureblood into something that was not going to be healthy for him. Her suspicions were only confirmed when he asked her where he could buy his own telly-fission.

The reminder that she had to get out of the cocoon of security, blankets and red-blooded male to face the reality of her life made Hermione morose. Thinking about facing down what she knew would be difficult questions and impertinent comments at the Ministry made her want to snuggle back into Thorfinn's welcome embrace and forget her responsibilities. She was halfway out of his arms when Thorfinn pulled her back into bed.

"No," was all he said, his voice gruff with sleep.

She giggled at his uncharacteristic terseness.

"Stay with me," he begged.

She laughed again before turning around in his arms to lay her head in the crook of his shoulder.

"Ignoring you being hexed and Charlie being arrested, yesterday was a perfect day. I'm not ready to go back to the real world."

Thorfinn placed another series of kisses on the top of her head before he made the difficult decision to get out of bed. He was on his feet long before Hermione was prepared to get up. With an extraordinary amount of ease, the wizard picked up her squirming body and threw it over his shoulder. She was laughing and kicking at the same time, unsure what his plans were now that she was his captive.

"If we both have to leave the flat to go back to our regular lives," Thorfinn said, carrying her to the bathroom. "We should at least start the morning off right."

Thirty minutes later they were both clean, out of breath and thoroughly satisfied. Hermione wrapped herself in a towel and was horrified to see the time. She was going to be very late if she didn't rush. Thorfinn sat back on the bed leaned up against the headboard watching her run around the bedroom frantically attempting to get ready. An amused grin proved he was finding her utterly adorable. It seemed that the later she became, the harder it was for her to find what she needed. Finally ready and later than she had ever been, Hermione and Thorfinn walked down to the street together.

"I will see you later tonight," he promised, capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

"I can't wait."

Thorfinn watched her disappear from the alley before he headed towards the tube station. Hermione arrived to the Ministry in the midst of the last minute stragglers. The time was almost nine. She had never arrived later than half past eight.

"You've made quite a name for yourself lately, haven't you?" declared a witch from the Improper Use of Magic office as they waited in line to enter through the employee entrance.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Hermione snapped, annoyed that the horrible woman was talking to her about what she assumed she was.

"All over the front page of the Daily Prophet. If I were you, I would keep my head down for a few months. Let everything blow over before you get a name for yourself that you don't want."

Hermione couldn't decide if the older witch was trying to provide her friendly advice or if she was trying to revel in her misery. Either way, it was obnoxious. She pushed past the woman the moment they were inside the Atrium. More whispers and pointed glances followed every step she made into the main level of the Ministry. She could only imagine what was on the front page of the newspaper.

Following an awkward lift ride with a couple of Unspeakables and an esteemed member of the Wizengamot, Hermione arrived on Level Four. As she expected, her coworkers stared at her as she walked to her office. She wondered if there would ever come a day that she would just be left alone. The morning edition was charmed to the outside of her office door yet again. If she discovered the person responsible for charming the papers to her door, she would not hesitate to hex them. This was just embarrassing.

 _Charles Weasley Arrested for Attacking Squib at Granger's Flat_

Hermione ripped the offending newspaper from her door. Ignoring the pointed looks from the other workers in her subdivision, she slammed her office door shut behind her. Though she would have rather eaten the newspaper whole instead of reading it, she needed to know what was being said about her in the press.

 _Reports of a violent altercation between Charles Weasley and an unidentified Squib in Hermione Granger's flat Sunday afternoon have been discovered to be true. Aurors and Obliviators were dispatched to the tacky, little flat in what is believed to be a fashionable Muggle neighborhood, if such a thing even exists, of the only female member of the Golden Trio. At approximately 1:20 pm, Muggle authorities were alerted that there was a domestic disturbance in the woman's flat. Ministry Aurors intercepted the call when it became clear that the infamous Miss Granger was somehow involved._

 _An anonymous source within the Ministry was unable to provide the name of the Squib who was apparently attacked by Mister Weasley citing the Squib was under protective custody of the Ministry. One wonders what exactly that means, but as of the printing of this article, the source has been unable to uncover just why they are under protection._

 _Unfortunately, this reporter is only able to speculate the particulars of the attack. It was once believed that Mister Weasley and Miss Granger were dating. She certainly has visited the Romanian Dragon Reserve where he was employed for many years up until just last week. An unconfirmed rumor wonders if Mister Charles Weasley was not returning to Great Britain specifically because of the witch in question._

 _Was this a romantic spat between a former boyfriend and a new lover? And if it is, what about poor Mister Kenneth Towler who only recently was linked to the notorious heartbreaker? Has he been summarily dispatched because he was unable to nominate her for the coveted position within the Goblin Liaison Office? Certainly witches from all over the country should be lining up to help him over his potential heartbreak._

 _Mister Weasley is the second eldest son of Arthur and Molly Weasley. Miss Granger has been linked in the past to at least two other sons in that prolific family. One wonders what kind of hold she must have over the men in that family. What could possibly entice the former dragonkeeper enough to commit violence against an unarmed Squib? He was remanded to the Ministry following the attack, but all charges have since been dropped. He was released after only a couple of hours._

 _Requests for a statement from current Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt regarding two of his Ministry employees involved in a domestic spat have been terse and a bit rude at times._

 _"I have no comment about the personal lives of those within my employ," stated the Minister. "No charges have been brought against Charlie. This is a personal matter between the parties involved and I would thank you to mind your own business."_

 _This reporter promises to keep seeking out the answers to this potential explosive situation within our Ministry of Magic._

Hermione wadded up the newspaper with the vicious Skeeter article into a large ball. Tossing it in the air she hit it with an effective incendio spell. The ashes floated slowly to land on top of her desk. She didn't know why she was surprised to find out that the embarrassing incident from the day before made the front page. She certainly couldn't understand how yet _another_ poorly written article with hardly any solid facts could make the top fold. Was her life really that interesting to the boring masses across the country?

A knock at her office door interrupted her increasingly depressing thoughts. With a wave of her wand she opened the entrance to her private office. Kenneth stood in the doorway clutching his personal copy of the offending article.

"Could we speak for a minute?" he asked, his voice calm and soft.

"Of course."

Hermione settled back down into her chair. Instead of sitting on her desk as he had done so many times in the past, Kenneth lowered himself into one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk. He seemed to want to put as much space between them as possible. Hermione certainly didn't mind.

"Is all of this true?" he asked, holding up the paper.

Hermione exhaled loudly at the question. She really didn't want to have this discussion before she had her first cup of tea that morning. How could she have spent the time before work in such pleasurable pursuits only to be bloody miserable as soon as she arrived? She hated Mondays. Worst day of the week.

" _Parts_ of it are true," she admitted. "Rita Skeeter hates me. She has a personal vendetta against me and loves to make me sound like a villain."

"I'll be honest, Hermione, I like you. A lot. Always have."

She struggled not to roll her eyes at his admission. He was telling her what she had been painfully aware of since she was eleven. For years he had made his affections known.

"Personally I believe we would make a formidable couple," he continued. "I'm certain there would be many who would envy us both. We have a great deal in common. Certainly we could both help each other in furthering our careers."

"Kenneth…" She wanted to stop him before he said something they would both regret.

"Please let me finish, Hermione. I assumed that we had a good time when we went out to dinner. I've thought of little else since that night, but it appears that I was wrong. Perhaps I enjoyed myself more than you did."

"Kenneth…"

He held up a hand to stop her. She bit down on her tongue. At least it was beginning to sound like he was reconsidering their potential relationship.

"I would have preferred, naturally, that you had spoken to me personally before you decided to pursue a relationship with someone else, but I suppose I haven't always been very easy for you to approach."

Hermione had to resist the urge to burst out laughing. Kenneth had _never_ been easy to speak to. Any time she tried to have a discussion about literally anything, he would dominate the conversation. She never wanted to come right out and tell him that she would not be interested in ever dating him, but even if she had, he never gave her the chance. He had to be in control of all their talks. Kenneth was not a bad guy. Simply a little socially inept, especially where women were concerned.

"I think it best that under the circumstances, we not go out again."

Kenneth rose from his chair without even looking Hermione in the eye. She couldn't help the bubble of guilt that rose up from her stomach at his exit. Despite not having an interest in dating him, she didn't want him to be hurt. Obviously at the bare minimum he was dealing with injured pride if not a bruised heart. Hermione only wished the best for him and was grateful that perhaps he had finally realized it wasn't going to be with her.

"You break his heart with all of your tarty ways?"

Hermione groaned. The last person she wanted to speak to that morning was Matthew. Unfortunately their offices were right next door and he was a terrible gossip. She should have known that the moment Kenneth exited, Matthew would slink in for details.

"Go away, Matthew," she responded. "I am not in the mood."

Ignoring her completely, Matthew skulked even further into her office. Did no one understand the importance of privacy that morning? Why was everyone so enamored with the sordid details of her life?

"The article true?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because I'd like to be made aware of the activities of my subordinates. What if you are somehow unhinged and you put the rest of the subdivision at risk?"

She rolled her eyes. All he cared about was getting the latest gossip and if possible, learning what he could to hold over her in the future. Matthew was known for digging up dirt on those he didn't care for or on those he deemed to be somehow in his way. More than once over the years he had been responsible, albeit usually quietly, in the demise of a coworker and the subsequent loss of their job. It was rumored that that was how he managed to get the promotion from assistant unit supervisor to unit supervisor. He was a snake in the grass. How he ever ended up in Hufflepuff was a mystery.

"What happens in the privacy of my own home is no one else's business," she retorted.

"Not according to the Daily Prophet. So are you fucking a Squib now? That seems pretty low even for you."

Hermione could feel the heat in her cheeks rise to a dangerous level. How dare he? Thorfinn was not a Squib. He was a powerful wizard who just happened to have his magic bound for a short period of time. Implying that there was something wrong with him only served to infuriate her further. If prejudice against Muggleborns was bad, it was nothing compared to what the poor Squibs who decided to remain in the Wizarding world experienced. Matthew only smirked when he saw how angry she was becoming.

"You know, only a short time ago I was convinced that you were some frigid virgin," he continued. "Imagine my surprise when I discovered that you are willing to open your legs for just about anyone who asks."

"Fuck you, Matthew."

"I'm not that hard up just yet," he laughed. "Ask me when every other available woman on Earth is dead."

A harsh knock at the door was the only thing that prevented Hermione from hexing all of the hair off of Matthew's body. He was very proud of his dark wavy locks. It would've been a shame for them to all disappear at once. His laughter ceased immediately when he looked up to see the Chosen One cross the threshold. Matthew had always been a little intimidated by Harry. His infrequent visits to the department were almost as entertaining as when Kingsley dropped in for a few minutes.

"Come in, Harry," Hermione ordered. "Matthew was just leaving."

Her glare in her boss' direction left no room for misunderstanding. Matthew reluctantly rose from the chair to exit the office. He tried to speak for a moment with Harry, but was summarily blown off. Hermione had to resist the urge to giggle at his offended countenance. Once Matthew pulled the door closed behind him, Harry took a seat in the chair that had already had so many visitors that morning.

"I thought it best that you and I have a private discussion," Harry declared. "I'm sorry that we weren't able to keep the story out of the papers. There's some leak somewhere in the Ministry. We've been searching for it for a while now."

"There's no need to apologize, Harry. I suspected it wouldn't remain private for very long."

An awkward silence descended upon the room. The old friends seemed unsure how to progress with their discussion. Each tried to start at separate times with little luck. Finally, Harry sighed loudly and asked the question that she had been dreading.

"How long have you been _involved_ with Rowle?"

She felt her cheeks burn again. Not for the first time in her life she cursed her fair complexion. It was all too easy for emotions to be discerned just by looking at the flush of her face. It was exasperating.

"Harry…"

"Please don't insult me by trying to deny it, 'Mione. He was standing in your flat wearing nothing but a towel. I saw the way he touched you and how you held his hand. And what else would make Charlie lose his head if it wasn't someone else with you? Everyone knows he's still in love with you."

"Harry, please, stop."

"Or were you not aware? Did you not know that he was moving back to Britain solely because he wanted to be with you?"

Hermione covered her face with her hands. Resting her elbows on the top of her desk, she groaned. Harry was the eternal optimist when it came to love amongst his family members. He had been anxious for Hermione to marry Ron when they were dating years earlier. When that didn't work out, he tried to push her to date George. They went out on one uncomfortable date that was splashed across the front page of the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly. Charlie's clandestine relationship with Hermione had been the worst kept secret of the Weasley family. Harry had been hoping for years that she would finally enter his family officially.

"Charlie and I have always been _complicated_ ," she replied. "We hadn't even spoken in over a year since the last time I visited Romania. If he was truly still interested in me, he should've let me know sooner."

"Let you know before you decided to enter a relationship with a man who has tried to kill you more than once?"

"Harry…"

"No, no, Hermione, I'm really not upset."

His tone was steady and he had never been able to lie to her convincingly in seventeen years of friendship. She hazarded a glance at her best friend's features. He seemed sincere. Hermione was nervous. How could he be so calm about what he witnessed the day before?

"A lot has changed since the war ended," Harry continued. "Before we released Rowle on parole I had the opportunity to speak with him on several occasions. He's different than he was before he was captured. Azkaban changed him. I see no reason why he can't become a productive member of society again."

"So you are _okay_ with what you witnessed?"

"Honestly, 'Mione? No, not really. I would much rather you end up with Charlie, but it's not my decision. You have always been able to see the good in people even when no one else could."

She could hardly believe that he was being so mature about the situation. Somehow she expected him to resort back to fifteen year old Harry and proceed to rant and scream at her for making terrible decisions. Being involved with a Death Eater seemed to be something he would most certainly have a problem accepting.

"Most people are not going to be as understanding," Harry gently reminded her. "Charlie and I discussed yesterday that it would be best if we didn't mention Rowle's name to _anyone_ , especially no one in the family. I imagine it will be hard enough for you to face the Weasleys after rejecting their own. Adding in that you are with a Death Eater…"

" _Former_ Death Eater."

"Yes, of course, we understand the difference, but I'm not sure everyone else will."

Harry rose from the chair. Hermione expected him to put up more of a fight. Throw something. Insult her. Scream at her for making an appalling choice. Maybe even hex her. His almost lack of emotion was unnerving.

"I only want you to be happy, Hermione."

He crossed behind her desk to pull her into a warm embrace. Hermione could feel hot tears pricking the corner of her eyes. Harry kissed the top of her head before he headed for the office door. One pull of the knob revealed yet another visitor just about to knock on the door. Hermione stifled a groan when she saw the reddened cheeks of Charlie Weasley begging for entrance.

"Come on in, Charlie," she sighed. "Looks as if I'm going to have every single person in the Ministry stop by today."

Harry spoke to Charlie across the threshold in hushed tones. Hermione could only imagine what they were speaking about. No doubt Harry was reminding his brother-in-law to keep his cool. If anyone alive could understand the problems that could come up with having a short fuse and an explosive temper, it was Harry Potter. Their conversation only lasted a few moments. Charlie's ruddy complexion appeared even redder than it normally did. Perhaps he was still embarrassed by the events of the previous day. Hermione hoped that he was.

"Could we speak for a minute?" he asked, his eyes refusing to meet hers.

She waved him further into the office. Charlie stood behind the chair that all of her visitors that morning had been seated in. He seemed too nervous to actually sit still. With his hands grasping the back of the chair, he attempted to speak.

"Hermione, I…"

He cleared his throat before trying again.

"I'm really sorry about yesterday."

His apology was spoken in a whisper. Hermione had to strain her ears to hear it. She hated that she was even more annoyed with his trite apology than she was before he even entered the room. Did he expect everything to be made all right between them with just a few simple words that meant nothing?

"My behavior was inexcusable."

"Did you stay up last night rehearsing what you were going to say?"

Charlie's blue eyes snapped up to meet hers. She could see the obvious indignation present. The harsh words just kind of slipped out of her mouth. Hermione wasn't sure why she wasn't willing to be as polite as he was trying to be. Shouldn't she do what her mother always told her and accept a genuine apology when it was offered? Part of her had difficulty believing that anything that came out of his mouth _was_ genuine.

"Mine…"

"No, don't call me that anymore, Charlie! I'm still very angry at you from yesterday. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I didn't like finding my witch alone in a flat with a naked Death Eater!"

Hermione removed her wand from her pocket to cast a quick silencing charm around the room. The last thing she needed was to give her coworkers an entertaining show they could use against her later. None of them needed to know about her relationship with Thorfinn. That was no one's business but theirs.

"First of all, I'm not _your_ witch, Charlie. Not anymore. Not even sure that I ever was."

"Hermione…"

"You made your feelings very clear the last time I was in Romania. Do you remember me _innocently_ asking you if you would ever move back to Britain? You practically bit my head off."

"That's not what happened."

She rolled her eyes. Apparently they had very different memories of the exact same event. On the last night of her trip to Romania she asked him about his plans for the future. It had felt like an innocent question, but his reaction was anything but. He made it clear that he had no intention of leaving where he had chosen to make his life. His career was important to him. He loved his dragons. In a moment of fire whiskey-fueled anger, he'd accused her of trying to change him to fit into some mold of what she wanted him to become. It had been the worst argument they had ever had. Even with attempted makeup sex later that night, their relationship was irrevocably changed. She'd returned to London believing that they were over once and for all.

"I really don't want to argue about the past, Charlie."

"Is it serious between you two?"

She sighed.

"I don't know. It's new. We haven't had time to really decide what's happening."

"You deserve better than him. Much better than him."

"Charlie, stop."

"I'm afraid that you are going to regret this, Hermione. He's the same person he always has been. Maybe I won't be around when he shows his true colors again."

Hermione rolled her eyes again. Was he really stooping down to that level? Their discussion had gone downhill rapidly. She tightened her grip on her wand just in case he lost his temper again. He had never hexed her before, but there was a first time for everything. Charlie stalked across the office to stand inches from her. He laid his hands on her shoulders. She hated that she flinched at the touch. It was further proof that they were very different people than they used to be.

"He won't make you happy. He can't provide for you or even keep you protected. He has no magic, Hermione."

"That's only temporary. He is still a wizard. And he's not completely weak and helpless. And I don't need to be protected. I'm not weak either."

Charlie began to run his hands up and down her arms. He stepped in closer, only inches from her. Warning bells chimed in her head. Before he could lower his lips to cover hers, Hermione pushed him backwards.

"You need to leave, Charlie."

Her tone cut off all potential arguments from the wizard. With a final heated look in her direction, he stormed out of the office. Somehow she knew that this wouldn't be the last she would hear on this subject. Charlie was tenacious and determined especially when he set his mind to something. This was not going to be the last argument they had.

Hermione cancelled the silencing charm around her office with a simple flick of her wand. A stack of parchment was waiting for her to sift through. She had more than enough work to occupy her for the rest of the day. Determined to remain hidden in her office, she did not procrastinate.

There was a single knock at her door just a few minutes after nine. She had been absorbed in the perpetual placement reports that never seemed to be finished. Time had slipped away from her. A quick glance up at the door revealed a smiling Thorfinn. She was out of her chair in moments. They kissed as if they hadn't seen each other in weeks, instead of hours.

"Today was the longest day," he whispered into her curls.

She snorted.

" _You_ had a long day? You should have been stuck in this office all day."

"That bad?"

"Worse."

Thorfinn's arms snaked around her back to pull her against his chest. She reveled in the spicy scent of his robes. An insatiable desire for the wizard holding her began to twist and churn in her stomach. She removed her wand from her pocket. Thorfinn stared down at her with narrowed, confused eyes. She pointed the wand out the door and muttered a quiet incantation. In seconds, every single inch of the tile flooring on Level Four began to sparkle.

"Looks like you are free for the next thirty minutes."

His lips crashed down onto hers. She backed up still attached at the mouth to the edge of her desk. Thorfinn's hands reached down to grasp her arse. In one swift motion, she was seated on the desk. Her hands reached down to unbutton his trousers, but he stopped her progress.

"Which office is the tosser's?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper.

"Just next door. Why?"

A mischievous smirk crossed his face. He helped her hop off the desk and with her hand still clutched in his, led her out of her office. Matthew never locked his door. He always requested she leave completed work on his desk before she left each night. Thorfinn pushed open the door and pulled her in.

"Thorfinn, what are we doing?"

The smirk was still firmly in place. He shut the door behind her and immediately picked up her petite body. Seconds later she was lying on top of Matthew's desk with Thorfinn's hands up her skirt. A quick tug removed her knickers. One sudden thrust and he was buried inside of her yet again. They'd lost count the number of times they'd been together in the past few days. Their coupling was intense and frantic. Hermione screamed more than once before Thorfinn groaned and shuddered above her. He rested his head on her chest while she ran her fingers through his blonde hair.

"Didn't the tosser say he would snap his wand and live like a Muggle if you ever let a bloke slither between your thighs?" teased Thorfinn when their breathing was back to normal.

Hermione laughed. Is that why he wanted to shag on top of Matthew's desk? Because he remembered the conversation they had that first night at the pub? Thorfinn's warm laughter quickly joined hers. They laughed until they were out of breath again.

"As much as I would love for you to cast a spell on Level Three so we can continue, I should get back to work."

Hermione sat up on the edge of the desk with a definitive pout on her lips. She wasn't ready to go back home alone to her empty flat. Having him there for the past few days had been wonderful. Thorfinn adjusted his trousers and returned her knickers with a cheeky grin. She couldn't remain annoyed with him for very long. A giggle at the absurdity of just having the stuffing shagged out of her on top of her arsehole boss' desk escaped her mouth. They might have to do this very thing again soon.

"Go home, Princess. It's late and I know for a fact that you haven't gotten enough sleep the last few nights."

They waited for the lift to arrive as they had every night since he began working for the Ministry. She kissed him goodbye at Level Three and watched him disappear behind the closing lift doors with a great deal of reluctance. Her day might have started off as shite, but it had most certainly improved by the end.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Thanks for all of the lovely reviews, follows and faves for the last chapter! I love my readers._

 _I just posted the first chapter of my new Hermione/Kingsley story The Minister's Secret last night. Check it out if you're interested!_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Tuesday

Never was a person less anxious to enter the Employee Entrance of the Ministry for Magic than Hermione Granger early that Tuesday morning. Despite Thorfinn sending her home at her regular time the night before, she had a fitful night's sleep. Unnerving dreams and difficulty falling asleep made for a very long night. She wondered if she had gotten used to sharing her bed with a man in just the previous two nights. It had been an easy routine to fall into after all.

She was thankful that there were very few Ministry officials wandering through the Atrium at that hour. Being the center of attention was wearing on her nerves. It brought to mind the uncomfortable weeks during her fourth year when Rita Skeeter seemed out to get her. Times may have changed. She might have been over a decade older than those days, but she was still living at the mercy of the horrid beetle animagus. How Skeeter had been able to survive the turbulent times of the Voldemort controlled Ministry was beyond Hermione's understanding. The woman was known for cultivating enemies everywhere she went and those had been dangerous, uncertain times.

The lift was empty when the doors opened. For over two weeks now she had been unable to step foot into any of the Ministry lifts without her thoughts drifting to the burly blonde wizard who had so recently wormed his way into her life. Hermione still had trouble believing how quickly their relationship had progressed. She was used to either taking an eternity for a potential mate to make their move or engaging in unsatisfactory interactions with strangers that wouldn't give her the time of day once the sun rose. Thorfinn had been unexpected and as of that morning, she still had not come to regret their new relationship.

A flying memo whizzing around her office caused Hermione to jump the moment she opened her door. She never expected the myriad of rubbish Ministry memos first thing in the morning. Very few people were even in the building. Remembering the last time she disregarded a memo, she snatched the piece of parchment out of the air the first time it buzzed by her head.

 _Please come to my office the moment you arrive, my girl. And don't think about pretending you're not already here. I know your schedule. –Kings_

Despite Kingsley being a dear friend, she was nervous about their meeting. Every step that brought her closer to his ornate office on Level One only caused her anxiety to strengthen. She was well aware of what he would want to speak with her about. Part of her had been very surprised that Kingsley hadn't dropped by her office the day before along with just about every other man in her life. Likely his busy schedule hadn't allowed adequate opportunity for a proper chinwag. No doubt catching her right as she entered the building was his way of ensuring he would get a chance to hear all of the sordid details straight from the source.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," greeted an annoyed Gemma Farley when Hermione arrived in the reception area in front of his office. "Minister Shacklebolt is expecting you."

Hermione found the woman's behavior both puzzling and amusing. They had never gotten on, but for the life of her, Hermione didn't understand why. They were only at Hogwarts together for one year. It couldn't have been old school issues that caused the older witch to dislike her so. Kingsley specifically requested she come. It wasn't like the last time they met when she forced herself into his office without permission. Hermione filed away a mental note to ask Thorfinn what he knew about the woman. They were both Slytherins in the same year. Maybe he would have some insight in to why she hated her.

She pushed open the large door to find Kingsley seated at his desk enjoying his customary morning scones. With his mouth full of the blueberry pastry, he waved her over to join him in one of the empty chairs in front of him. As soon as he swallowed his bite of breakfast, Kingsley smiled broadly at his visitor. He at least seemed pleased to see her enter.

"I picked up a chocolate chip scone just for you," Kingsley announced as he pushed a small plate across the desk.

"Wasting no time going straight for my weaknesses, are you, Kings?"

"I have no idea what you are implying, my dear," he answered unconvincingly with a wink.

Hermione picked at the scone. Damn the wizard! He had been bribing her with chocolate in all its forms since the summer before her fifth year. After a couple of bites of the delectable treat that definitely could not be considered a proper breakfast, Hermione sighed and blurted out her thoughts.

"I'm assuming you wanted to speak to me about all of the excitement on Sunday? Get it 'straight from the horse's mouth' as the Muggles like to say."

Kingsley squirmed in his comfortable leather chair, the grin present on his handsome features only moments before completely absent.

"Partially, but mostly I'm worried about you, love," he responded with an almost condescending tone Hermione loathed. She felt almost like she used to as a Hogwarts student when he would attempt to educate her on certain aspects of wizarding culture she didn't understand. If Kingsley's heart wasn't in the right place, she would've stormed out. "You have not been yourself in… well, _years_."

"I've grown up, Kingsley. Weren't you the one who told me that we all grow up and we don't always become people we like?"

Kingsley sighed. Obviously this discussion was not going as he planned.

"You're depressed, Hermione. Plain and simple. No arguments. I know that we don't always address issues with our mental health quite as well as they seem to do in the Muggle world, but it seems obvious to me."

"Thanks for the diagnosis, Kings. I feel so much better."

She did not even attempt to hide her sarcasm or her eye rolls at his statement. She didn't need some Pureblood wizard with limited experience outside the protective cocoon of wizarding society explain to her how Muggles would see her problems. It was almost insulting. Coming from anyone else she might have been tempted to jinx their mouth shut.

"Don't be snarky," Kingsley replied, his tone still steady and calm. "I'm only trying to help. How long have you been stuck in your horrible job now?"

"Eight years," she muttered.

"And how many times are you going to continue to turn down a better position when I offer one?"

Hermione could feel her exasperation with the Minister begin to spike. He _knew_ how she felt about cronyism. That had always been a serious problem within the walls of the Ministry. Hermione resolutely refused to be a part of such a system.

"I don't want to just be handed a job I didn't earn, Kingsley. I thought I'd made that clear by now."

Kingsley's frustration was evident. It was always the same every time he brought up this familiar subject. Hermione could almost hear him grinding his teeth across the desk.

"I have two things to say to you in response," he began. "One, this is how politics work. You _reward_ those who are loyal to you, and two, you've slogged away eight years in that horrid, little office to make your subdivision more efficient and productive than it has ever been. What makes you think you haven't _earned_ a better position?"

She had no response. _Damn it, Kingsley!_ He was one of the most persuasive men she had ever known, and at times, she had been an eager, willing victim to his blatant manipulations. How else could she explain her permanent spot on the committee to plan St. Mungos' Children's Gala each year? Kingsley was a smooth talker, but she refused to go against her principles.

"If the office has been improved so much, why haven't you offered a better job to Matthew? He's the unit supervisor after all."

Kingsley actually groaned out loud at her question.

"Kettletoft is a boil on the arse of this Ministry," he spat. "I can't stand him. He is scheming, unscrupulous, lazy and quite frankly, a cad. I would have him fired in an instant if I could prove any wrongdoing. Sadly, he's too sneaky.

"Towler and I have discussed this issue on more than one occasion. Now, I did _not_ tell you this, but Kenneth has been quietly digging into his work record for something he can use to get him fired. We have to be very careful in how we proceed, however. Kettletoft's mother is a Smith. One of the Hufflepuff Smiths."

Hermione was very surprised by that bit of trivia. How had she never known that about his family? It seemed the very thing he would proudly announce and use to his advantage. Despite not being very well liked, the Hufflepuff Smiths had a great deal of influence on their society. At least it finally made sense why Matthew was Sorted into Hufflepuff. He was believed to be a direct descendent of Helga Hufflepuff.

"Very powerful family," Kingsley continued. "They could prove to be _difficult_ if this isn't handled correctly."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you as far away from him as possible! I do not trust the wizard. The head of the Ludicrous Patents Office on Level Seven is contemplating retiring soon. I would love to make you his assistant so that when the time came for him to retire, you could take over the office."

Hermione had always been fascinated by that office. Her ears definitely perked up at the offer. She had always found the Ludicrous Patents Office to be whimsical and loved all of the research that it required. Many had no desire to step in the office for that very reason, but research had never been a deterrent for Hermione.

"I promise to think it over, Kingsley. Thank you."

"Now if you will excuse me for being impertinent, could you tell me what in the buggering hell happened on Sunday?"

It was a struggle for Hermione not to laugh at his eagerness for juicy details. He was a terrible gossip.

"When I read the classified report, I was _shocked_. Thorfinn Rowle, Hermione? Weren't you just in here recently whinging about his parole? How does he end up naked and hexed in your flat?"

Hermione bit down another laugh at his exuberance. Kingsley wasn't angry, merely curious. There were likely to be very few allies in support of a potential relationship with a former Death Eater. Kingsley was right at the top of that short list. Hermione was half-convinced he would still believe her incapable of doing wrong if she rose to power as a Dark Lady and began marking her own murderous minions.

"I've recently discovered another side to him that I did not expect," Hermione admitted.

"Do you believe he can make you happy?"

Hermione did not hesitate to nod her head in the affirmative. Kingsley's bright, wide smile crossed his face again. He stood up from his chair, wiped the blueberry scone crumbs off the front of his robes and moved to stand in front of his visitor.

"Then I suppose I can accept and support your decision, love. I may not like it, but if he can perform a miracle and bring back the happy girl I used to know, I will learn to love him too."

Kingsley leaned down to kiss her cheek. Moments later Hermione was exiting the Minister's office. The former Slytherin prefect was still glaring in her direction. Hermione wondered once again what she could have possibly done to anger the woman so. By the time the lift deposited her onto Level Four, all thoughts of Gemma Farley disappeared from her head.

With very few of her coworkers brave enough to speak to Hermione, the rest of her Tuesday passed with little to no excitement. Matthew was in a mood, but she was determined to not let him bother her. Every time he came into her office with more work, she simply took it without complaint. She knew that he loved when she got upset. If she refused to show him how annoyed she was becoming, he would most likely leave her alone for a while. It was encouraging to know that there were others in the Ministry who were not fooled by his act. She only hoped that Kenneth would find something solid he could use against him soon.

Part of her wondered if she could submit the multiple incidents of harassment she had experienced from him in just the last few weeks alone. In the Muggle world she would have been protected from any kind of retribution for reporting that kind of behavior in the workplace. Not so with Wizarding Britain. Just like with Kenneth and his sexual harassment, she would be more likely to get into trouble for reporting Matthew's bad behavior than he would. Unfortunately, it would be a he-said, she-said situation. Pensieve memories could be doctored and the allegations were not serious enough to warrant Veritaserum.

Just before eight that evening when the department was almost completely empty, Hermione was startled by the sudden arrival of a delivery owl. Interoffice memos cut down on the need for owls through the massive underground office building, but they still were required for certain types of outside mail. During regular hours all post owls were stopped at the uppermost level and their mail delivered by a less messy process. After hours when no one was there to catch the incoming owls, the birds were free to fly around the building.

 _Hermione,_

 _Please pass this note to Thorfinn as soon as you are able. It is important. Thank you again for offering to forward my notes on to him._

 _Reina_

Surprised that Reina had not used her offered messaging services until that evening, Hermione slipped the sealed envelope into her robe pocket. There was likely no way she would be able to leave the confines of the Ministry without being stalked by Thorfinn first. Not that she minded of course. Their activity on top of Matthew's desk still made her cheeks flush and her body excited. If the horrible man only knew what was happening on that smooth surface less than twenty-four hours earlier…

She was able to distract herself from more stimulating fantasies by focusing on the last stack of parchment Matthew placed on her desk before he left. The chime marking the half hour mark gave her all the incentive she needed to stop. Thorfinn must have thought it wiser to finish his work on the Level before he spoke with her to prevent a repeat of the night before. They had been reckless. It was lucky that they hadn't been caught.

Thorfinn was waiting for her at the lifts with a welcoming grin. After a quick glance around the level to make sure there weren't any nosy coworkers still lingering about, Hermione reached up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. His hands instantly clutched her back, pulling her close enough to kiss. When they broke apart a couple of minutes later, they both took a deep breath.

"I've been looking forward to that all day," he declared, his wink making the witch blush.

"I hate that we have such different schedules," she replied. "The weekend will never get here."

She reached into her robe pocket to remove the letter from Reina. Thorfinn examined it before slipping it into his own pocket. Apparently his sister's missive could wait.

"Today any better than yesterday?" Thorfinn asked. Concern was etched across his face. He was well aware how awful the previous day had been following the damned newspaper article.

"Much. Kingsley and I had a nice chat this morning. He wants to move to the Ludicrous Patents Office to be the assistant head. If I accept, I will take over the office when the current head retires."

"That sounds like good news to me. Anything to get you out of this office, huh? Are you going to accept?"

"I promised him I would think it over."

Every moment the lift moved between Level Four to Level Three was spent in a heated snogging session. They were like teenagers again, unable to keep their hands off of the other. The excitement of the fear of getting caught was heady. Hermione kissed him firmly once more before the doors closed shut. She promised him that she would go straight home and think inappropriate thoughts of him in the bath.

Her flat felt strangely empty when she was there by herself. It had never felt that way before. She made herself a light, late dinner, eating it over the sink like she did most nights. A long, hot bath was what her strained limbs and back needed. She couldn't stop giggling at Thorfinn's order to think about him. As if she could ever look at her bathtub in the same way after their _very_ pleasurable Sunday afternoon bath. All of her future homes would have to have a bathtub at least as large as the one she currently owned.

Once she was clean and in her pajamas, the time was past eleven. She was exhausted. Moments after her head hit the pillow that still smelled faintly of the man who used it just a couple of days earlier, Hermione was deep asleep.

A loud pounding interrupted her dreams. At first she thought she was dreaming the sound while she lay there in the dark of her bedroom. The clock on her nightstand showed a quarter past midnight. Surely no one would be knocking on her flat door. She closed her eyes, convinced she was hearing sounds that did not exist. The pounding became even louder and more frantic.

She had her wand clasped firmly in her hand when she threw open the front door. Whatever she was expecting to find on the other side of the door was certainly not Thorfinn holding a silently crying five year old little girl. Reina stood just a couple of feet behind her elder brother clutching her younger daughter. Hermione could only imagine what brought the only remaining members of the Rowle family to her doorstep in the middle of the night. A quick glance down the corridor showed a concerned Pasha standing in his pajamas watching the action. She hated that whatever was happening woke her patient neighbor.

"Thorfinn, what's going on?" she asked.

"I didn't know where else to take them. I'm sorry," he answered.

"No, it's all right."

Little Amelia Smith was clinging to her uncle's neck, her tiny body shaking with frightened sobs. Reina shifted Lucy from one hip to the other. The movement revealed a bright red mark across her tear-streaked face.

"Hermione, is there somewhere we can put the girls while we talk? I don't want them to hear," questioned an embarrassed Reina.

Pasha stepped closer to the family huddled in the corridor. He met Hermione's eye.

"I have empty bedroom," he announced.

Thorfinn turned to stare at the Russian wizard. He remembered seeing him from the dramatic Sunday afternoon events. After a cursory exam, he rotated back around to face Hermione.

"Princess?"

"I trust him with my life," she replied with no hesitation.

"That's good enough for me."

Pasha opened the door to his flat to allow his visitors entrance. Once inside the spacious home, he led the siblings to the spare bedroom he only used when his parents came to visit from Russia. Hermione stood with him just outside the door watching Thorfinn and Reina put the young girls to bed. Lucy was almost asleep when Reina removed her shoes and pulled the bedcovers up to her neck. Amelia, however, was still crying and seemed reluctant to let go of her uncle. Thorfinn whispered soothing words to his niece as he ran his hand up and down her back.

"Shh, it's all right, sweetheart," he crooned. "Uncle Finn won't let anything else happen to his girls."

Hermione fought the urge to cry right along with the poor girl. Just what in the hell had happened? She was growing anxious for an explanation. Reina was tipping a small amount of potion into Lucy's mouth. She moved over to where Thorfinn was still holding the frightened girl to coax a little of the liquid into Amelia's mouth as well. It only took a few more moments of soothing words and touches from the girl's mother and uncle before she fell asleep.

Pasha inhaled sharply and clenched his jaw when he saw Amelia's neck. Harsh, red welts covered the little witch's neck and jaw. The anger emanating off of the usually gentle wizard surprised Hermione greatly. She had never seen him so upset. Thorfinn pulled the covers up to Amelia's neck. He dropped a tender kiss on her forehead before exiting the bedroom.

"Thank you," he said, extending his hand to shake Pasha's. "It's been a difficult night."

Reina stepped out of the bedroom, quietly closing the door behind her. Pasha smiled brightly when he got his first clear glimpse of the woman. She immediately blushed causing the large red mark on her face to stand out even more on her porcelain skin.

"Reina?" asked Pasha.

She smiled and immediately nodded.

"Have you both met before?" Hermione asked, confused by the exchange.

"Yule Ball," Pasha answered. "She wore purple dress and she was so kind to shy boy from Russia who stepped on her feet all night."

"Wait, you're Pasha? _The_ Pasha?" Thorfinn asked with a chuckle.

Reina immediately smacked her older brother in the arm when his laughter started. Thorfinn wasn't bothered at all by the violent gesture. With a broad grin on his face, he turned back towards the Russian wizard.

"All my sister spoke about for a bleeding _month_ that next summer was 'Pasha says this' and 'Pasha likes that'. 'Pasha says in Russia'… I got bloody sick of hearing your name, mate."

His sister was mortified by his falsetto impression of her voice. Pasha simply smiled, his own cheeks bright red. Thorfinn spun around to address his sister.

"You couldn't have married this one instead?"

Both Reina and Pasha were embarrassed by his question. Hermione hid a smile. She thought they were both adorable. Thorfinn stepped close enough to his witch that she was able to put an arm around his waist. She tried to pull him a little further away from the others when she saw Pasha point to Reina's marked face.

"Is it spell or hand?" he asked in a low voice.

She whispered 'hand', but couldn't meet the wizard's eyes. Hermione could feel Thorfinn tense at the admission. Pasha pointed his wand towards his bathroom and muttered a quiet incantation. A small jar flew across the flat straight into his hand. With more care than Hermione had ever seen anyone apply a potion, Pasha covered the mark on her face with a liberal amount of cream.

"Will sting a bit, but should go away soon."

Hermione turned towards Thorfinn to take any additional attention away from the humiliated woman.

"What happened?" She tried to keep her voice down low.

"The piece of shite she married wasn't content to just slap his wife around. Hexed his _five_ year old daughter when she tried to stop him hurting her mum."

He didn't even try to lower his voice. His anger was too strong. Reina immediately began to cry as he explained further just what had happened that night. The note from Reina was asking him to come to a Muggle café nearby the Ministry as soon as possible. There hadn't been a lot of details, but Thorfinn wasn't an idiot. He could read between the lines that his sister was hiding with her daughters. As soon as he read the note he lied to his supervisor about feeling sick. Because the wizard was a hypochondriac, he sent Thorfinn home immediately. He cleaned all of the remaining levels of the building with a single spell.

"Proving once again my job is fucking pointless."

Finding Reina had not been hard. He had eaten at the very café she mentioned once before. His sister and nieces were huddled in a booth over a dismal dinner. It took several attempts before he was able to discern from his sister that they were needing somewhere to hide. Reina had to threaten him with a full body bind to prevent him from rushing off to find Zacharias. She had already cursed him after he hexed Amelia. He was thankful for the lesson on how the Muggle underground worked. Without it, he wouldn't have known how to get to Hermione's flat on his own.

"I didn't know where else to take them," he repeated.

"You will stay here," stated Pasha.

Reina tried to argue, but the man was determined.

"No, you and girls can stay in my extra bedroom. My flat's much bigger than Hermione's. No one would think to look for you here. You will be safe here."

The exhausted woman immediately began to cry. She thanked him between her muffled sobs. Pasha was hesitant in touching the woman. When he placed a soft touch on her arm, she visibly flinched. Hermione could see his jaw clench in sheer anger. It seemed that Thorfinn wasn't the only wizard in that flat wanting to murder the Smith scion. Only Thorfinn's request that additional wards be added to his flat broke Pasha out of his homicidal reverie. Agreeing wholeheartedly with the blonde, Pasha led them both to the front door to begin the process.

Reina shifted uncomfortably in place when she was alone with Hermione. It was apparent that neither woman knew what to say.

"I'm so sorry," apologized Reina. "This is all my fault."

"No, Reina, it's not," Hermione replied firmly. "It doesn't matter what happened. He had no right to hurt you or your daughter."

"You must think me terribly weak."

Hermione physically bit her tongue to prevent any unkind words from escaping. Yes, that was exactly what she had been thinking. She had never been able to understand why abused women stayed with their spouses. Certainly she couldn't imagine _she_ would stay if she found herself in a similar position.

"Zacharias fancied me when we were at Hogwarts. I thought he was annoying. Didn't help that he was a year younger than me. After Thorfinn's trial, I lost _all_ of my friends." Reina snorted. "Guess they weren't really my friends after all. I'd been working in a little shop in Diagon Alley. Zach showed up one day and was actually friendly to me. No one had been kind to me in so long that I just clung to him. A bit desperate, really.

"In the beginning he was so charming and sweet. I think a part of me fell in love with him simply because I was so lonely. It wasn't until after we got married that he changed. Started trying to prevent me from seeing Finnie. He never touched me with a firm hand until after Lucy was born. Even that started off gradually. I didn't have anywhere else to go. Zach threatened to take our girls away if I ever tried to leave. You know how influential his family is."

Hermione nodded her head. She was all too personally aware of how much sway the Hufflepuff Smiths had. It was infuriating and something she hoped would soon change. Maybe if it became known that Zacharias was nothing but a worthless wife and child abuser, they would be less respected.

"All I had was a Death Eater brother locked up for life in Azkaban and an elderly recluse of an uncle who's going to die any day now. I have no money. I didn't do very well on my N.E. except for Charms. I didn't know what else to do. I felt stuck."

Hermione wiped tears off of her cheeks. Reina's tale was horribly sad. She felt a great deal of sympathy for the older witch. Suddenly her problems didn't seem as important when she thought about Reina. Her silly little problems were just that, silly. It was a disturbing realization to her that she didn't really know what was going on in other people's lives. She felt guilty for feeling so depressed when her life really wasn't that terrible.

"Reinie, I think you should try to get some sleep," Thorfinn suggested. "It's been a long night."

She allowed her brother to pull her into a crushing hug. They broke apart moments later. With a hesitant smile to both Hermione and Pasha, Reina disappeared into the room where her girls were already fast asleep. Thorfinn extended his hand once more to the Russian wizard to thank him for all of his help.

"I will keep them safe," Pasha promised. "No man should hurt his family like that."

Thorfinn and Hermione left the wizard's flat moments later. Once inside the safety of her home, she begged Thorfinn to stay the night. The final train of the night had already left by that time and she didn't think that either of them needed to be alone. Mostly she didn't want Thorfinn to return home to find an incensed Zacharias waiting for him. The location of his flat wouldn't take much effort to find. Thorfinn didn't even bother to protest. He was content to stay there with his witch next door to the other witches we loved.

"You aren't going to go after him, are you?" Hermione asked the moment they were both settled in her cold bed.

"I really want to, Princess," Thorfinn retorted with a sigh. "But it's no use. If I didn't have to worry about what would happen to them if I was arrested, Smith would already be dead."

Hermione snuggled into his chest, relishing the feel of his muscular arm around her petite frame. She couldn't blame the man one bit. Part of her wanted to seek out the man and kill him with her bare hands. How could he hurt the ones he was supposed to protect and love the most?

"If I'm arrested, they have no one," he continued. "I can't do that to them. Smith will get his, but we will do it legally."

"I'm so glad you are thinking clearly. No one would blame you if you weren't."

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. It was extremely late. Hermione didn't even want to know what the clock said, but neither of them seemed ready just yet to go to sleep. They were both too keyed up by the night's events.

"You should go back to your flat tomorrow and pack a bag," Hermione suggested. "Come stay with me for a little while. They'll be right next door and you won't have to worry about Smith dropping by unannounced."

"Asking me to move in already, Princess?" he teased. "Aren't you concerned we're moving a bit fast?"

Hermione snorted. He could make her laugh like no one else could.

"It's temporary and there are extenuating circumstances. You annoy me too much or start leaving wet towels on the floor, you're gone."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Wednesday

After being asleep no more than twenty minutes within the secure circle of Thorfinn's arms, Hermione jolted awake at the sound of someone else banging on her poor, abused front door. Thorfinn was up in the same moment, instinctively reaching for the wand he hadn't been allowed access to for ten long years. A quick glance at her alarm clock revealed to Hermione that it was just a few minutes past three. When the insistent pounding grew even louder and sounds of muffled shouting on the other side of the thick door became clearer, she threw off the bedcovers in one swift movement. Not even bothering to pull on a robe or step into her slippers, she rushed across the flat, a bare chested Thorfinn only steps behind.

"Open up, Granger!"

The shouting was much clearer close to the front door. Hermione couldn't place the voice, but the unexhausting battering of the door continued. She started to reach for the door until Thorfinn stopped her.

"Do you know who that is?" he asked, concern evident on his features.

"No, but I can't just leave them outside to continue shouting. One of my neighbors is bound to call the Muggle police again, if they haven't already."

With her wand held tightly in her right hand, Hermione pulled open the door with her left. Zacharias Smith was mid-way through another boisterous knock when the sudden opening of the door caused him to stumble forward. If Hermione hadn't kept her security wards firmly in place, the irate former Hufflepuff would have toppled into her flat. Instead he harmlessly bounced off her security feature.

"It's about bloody time, woman!" Zacharias shrieked. "How much longer were you planning on making me wait out here?"

He was obviously drunk. Reina's husband could barely remain upright on his own feet. His wife's hex mark was still clear on his face. Hermione felt a rush of pride at the woman's spellwork. Half of his face was covered in oozing, red boils that looked very painful. Knowing that he was a competent and well-respected Healer unable to remove the evidence made Hermione smile internally. Reina had always been a dab hand at Charms.

"What are you doing here at three in the morning, Smith?" she demanded.

"Looking for your new wizard," he slurred.

Thorfinn's hand grasped Hermione's shoulder. He stepped closer to the door, his muscular frame coming into better focus in the light of the corridor. Smith cackled when he saw his brother-in-law.

"I thought that tarty little Muggle was insane when she told me that you'd been spending a lot more time with your ex-wife _Hermione_." Zacharias continued to laugh. "Was there a marriage and divorce I was unaware of, Rowle?"

Thorfinn's hand squeezed Hermione's shoulder tightly at the spill of words. Hermione was curious by the content, but this was certainly not the moment to question him. She could feel the anger radiating off of her wizard. He might not have access to his magic, but there was no question he would win in a physical contest. A squeak of an opening door coming from down the corridor confirmed Hermione's suspicions that Pasha was aware of the unstable man. Her racing heartbeat calmed just a bit when she realized there would be at least two wands to Smith's one. Three if Reina was involved.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked again.

"I'm looking for my family," he spat, all hints of laughter gone. "They are not at home and I have no doubt that _he_ knows where they are."

"Like I would ever tell you, Smith," Thorfinn retorted. "Especially after you've proven yourself to be a worthless piece of shite. Beating your wife _and_ hexing your five year old daughter? That's low even for you."

Zacharias' eyes narrowed at his brother-in-law's words. Both men were locked into a tense staring match that made the witch standing between them very uncomfortable. Thorfinn's rage was palpable. She knew he wouldn't hesitate to murder the younger wizard if he was certain he could get away with it.

"I know you don't have them hidden in your tiny flat, Rowle. Already tore the place apart. Do I need to do the same to your flat, Granger?"

His wand was pointed directly over Hermione's head at Thorfinn. She could feel her hands tremble with a mixture of anger and fear that he was going to do something drastic. Hermione pushed her own wand into Zacharias' neck.

"You are free to explore my flat for yourself, Smith," she announced. "But you will keep your wand to yourself. I will not hesitate to fight back and if you send so much as a tickling jinx in Thorfinn's direction the aurors will be here in seconds. Do I make myself clear?"

Zacharias nodded his head. Hermione lowered her wand and her wards to allow the hated man to enter her private home. She was grateful to Pasha in that moment for insisting that Reina and the girls stay with him. Smith would be unable to find any trace of his family inside her flat and would never think they might be hiding next door.

" _Homenum Revelio_ ," muttered Zacharias the instant he crossed the threshold.

Hermione knew that her wards would prevent his human presence revealing spell from reaching the two bedroom flat next door. Pasha's additional wards would also keep it out. Obviously frustrated by the lack of a positive response from his spell, Zacharias cursed under his breath. Hermione held tightly to Thorfinn's arm out of fear that he would do something rash. Only a few minutes passed of his exploration before Zacharias came back to stand in front of them.

"I know you know where they are, Rowle. I am in a position where I can make your life miserable if you don't tell me where they are," he warned.

Thorfinn snorted.

"I would kill myself before I ever told you where they were, Smith. They deserve much better than you."

Zacharias showed no fear when he stepped closer to the man who was a couple of inches taller and several stone heavier. Smith's voice dropped to a low level when he spoke again.

"Your sister should kiss my feet every single day that I looked past her Death Eater brother. Do you know how many daughters and sisters and wives of your little mates have been forced to sell their bodies for pittance because the taint of people like you prevented them from being accepted into polite society? I gave your sister a life worth living when I gave her my name. She _belongs_ to me and I will not rest until she is back underneath me in her rightful place."

Hermione stepped between the two men in an attempt to stem any potential violence.

"You need to leave now," she ordered.

Zacharias dropped his eyes from Thorfinn's to stare into Hermione's. An almost feral grin crossed his features. Hermione resisted the urge to shudder.

"I'm surprised by you, Granger. You know he _killed_ filthy, little Mudbloods like you during the war, don't you?"

Thorfinn literally growled at the slur directed at his witch. Hermione spun around slightly to place a hand on his chest. The last thing he needed was to get arrested for assault while still on parole. Zacharias wasn't worth the bother. With one hand still on Thorfinn's chest feeling his heart beating rapidly, Hermione used her wand to forcibly remove the offensive Hufflepuff from her flat. Smith landed in an undignified heap in the middle of the corridor. His cheeks, at least the parts not already covered in boils, flushed bright red in his fury.

"I'll make certain you regret ever speaking to that Death Eater," Smith sputtered. "This isn't over, Granger. Not by a long shot."

He stumbled down the corridor to the stairs, tripping over his own shoes every few feet. Only when she heard the front door to the building open and shut, followed by the crack of Apparition did Hermione exhale deeply. Her stomach was churning with Smith's warning echoing through her mind. How many more enemies was she going to make in that blasted family? Thorfinn's strong arms snaking around her waist brought her mind back to Earth.

"Let's go back to bed, Princess. You have to be awake in just a few hours."

She allowed him to lead her back into the cool darkness of the bedroom. Once underneath the covers, she felt him envelope her entire body with his arms. She was certain that she would never grow tired of feeling so tiny in his embrace. For several long minutes they lay in the blackness saying nothing. Finally, her curiosity could be contained no longer.

"Why did your neighbor tell Smith that your ex-wife's name is Hermione?"

Even without seeing his face, she could feel him shift uncomfortably behind her. She bit her bottom lip to prevent a laugh from tumbling out of her mouth. After at least a solid, awkward minute, he spoke.

"Natalie was asking me about my ex-wife on our laundry date that was not a date," he explained. "Yours was the first name I thought of. We'd just had a lovely evening and I'll be honest, Princess, I had been thinking of little else. So I told her that I married a woman named Hermione who was too smart and too good for me. If I had known at the time that that little slip would've put you in danger, I would have never said anything."

His lips pressed into her curls. It was a shame that his unsuspecting Muggle neighbor had to be dragged into his family drama. The more she got to know the man who used to bully her as a child, the more she understood that he desired nothing more in life than to just be left to enjoy the simple things in life. Hermione dropped a kiss on his forearm before closing her eyes.

* * *

It felt to Hermione that the moment she finally closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, her alarm started going off. Following Smith's unwelcome visit, she and Thorfinn stayed awake a while longer discussing what they needed to do next. They lay in bed a long time wrapped in each other's arms simply talking before they could no longer keep their eyes open. The shrill piercing emanating from her Muggle alarm clock made them both groan.

"Don't want to get up," Thorfinn grumbled into his pillow.

Hermione could certainly empathize. She reached across the bed to turn the damned alarm off in a huff.

"Neither do I," she said in a pout. "At least you can sleep late. I have to go in."

"It's a shame we are both so tired and only have _talking_ to blame."

"You don't think we did enough this past weekend or on top of Matthew's desk?"

Thorfinn's muffled laughter grew louder when he flipped over and pulled his witch to his chest in one fast motion. Hermione snuggled into his chest, sighing in frustration at the knowledge she was about to have to get out of bed and walk away from the man.

"Princess, I've got ten years to make up for. If you consider that _conservatively_ I missed out on shagging a pretty girl once a week while I was locked up in Azkaban, I would have to shag at _least_ five hundred and twenty times to make up for time lost."

"And you were not the average wizard?"

He snorted at her question before bursting out in loud belly laughs. Hermione couldn't keep herself from laughing right along with him.

"No, I wasn't. Between the witches I could simply send an owl to any time of night or just drop by unannounced, and all of the witches I picked up in pubs, I figure I've got to have sex _at least_ two thousand six hundred times before I've made up for the years I was incarcerated."

It was Hermione's turn to snort.

"That's disgusting," she chuckled.

"It would be disgusting if I was looking to other random witches, but Princess, I'm a little smitten with you."

"So I will be responsible for shagging you over two and a half thousand times?"

"Well, plus what we would normally do."

Hermione playfully groaned.

"It sounds as if I'm stuck having sex with you for the rest of my life."

Thorfinn had her flat on her back and hovering over her in only seconds.

"I see no problems with that at all," he whispered, dropped his lips to the sensitive base of her neck.

"What will your wife Hermione have to say about that?" she teased.

His lips ceased their gentle assault on her collarbone to smile at her joke. In the light of the early morning she could see the color on his cheeks at the mention of the fib he told his neighbor. He was at least a tiny bit embarrassed by being discovered.

"We just can't ever tell her."

He renewed his attentions on her person when she started laughing again. Even though she knew she needed to get out of bed to go to work, Hermione willingly laid there accepting his hot kisses up and down the column of her neck. His hands moved down her body to pull her thin pajama pants down inch by torturous inch. A loud knock at the door startled them both.

"Ignore it," Thorfinn ordered, nudging her thighs apart with his knee.

"What if it is your sister?"

Thorfinn loudly groaned. He rolled off of his witch and slammed his hand on the mattress. Hermione bit back a giggle. Sometimes he was adorable when he wasn't even trying.

"For future reference, Princess, mentioning my sister is _exactly_ the subject that will get me out of the mood."

Hermione pulled her pajama pants back on with a laugh at his expense. Covering her pajamas with a robe as she crossed the flat, she answered the front door. Pasha was already fully dressed. Yet again she had to suppress a laugh. She knew for a fact that he was not a morning person. He was quick to invite them both over for breakfast prepared by his houseguests.

"Reina and girls have been awake for long time."

Pasha yawned causing Hermione to snicker.

"Thank you, Pasha. I'm running late for work, but I will tell Thorfinn."

After she realized how late she was, Hermione rushed through her flat to get ready. She was grateful that she had bathed the night before. If she didn't hurry she would be forced to enter the Ministry at the same time as everyone else. Only a few short minutes later she was kissing Thorfinn goodbye at Pasha's front door with a promise to see him later.

She was pleased to find that there were very few Ministry workers milling about the Atrium when she arrived. Her previous evening had been difficult enough to handle without worrying about even more whispers and pointed stares. No one was on the lift with her and she was especially ecstatic to find that no one was yet on her level.

With a large stack of placement reports already waiting for her on her desk, there was really no reason for Hermione to even step out of her office until mid-morning when her desire for caffeine became apparent. It had been harder and harder to ignore the heavy yawns disrupting her reading. Just a few minutes before ten she ignored all of the other members of her team to slip up to the Ministry canteen. Few people were milling around the area that time of morning.

As she was stepping out of the lift on to Level Four with a large steaming cup of tea held tightly in her hand, an incensed Kenneth Towler stepped in front of her, blocking her ability to move back to her office. She had only seen him truly angry a handful of times during their long acquaintance and _never_ once directed at her. In front of full view of most of the department, Kenneth loomed over his long time crush.

"Is this paper true this morning?" he demanded, not even bothering to lower his voice. All across the level his subordinates were pausing to watch the scene unfold.

"I'm sorry, Kenneth. I'm not sure what you're referring to. I don't have a subscription to the Daily Prophet any longer because of past experiences with their lies."

Kenneth thrust a crumpled up morning edition in her hands. Immediately she felt her stomach drop at the massive headline splashed across the front page: _Death Eater Thorfinn Rowle Revealed as Granger's Mystery Squib_. She wanted to deny everything, throw the paper in his face and tell him to mind his own fucking business. Unfortunately her curiosity got the better of her.

 _In a positively shocking turn of events, it has been revealed to this reporter that the mystery squib involved in a domestic altercation this past weekend in Hermione Granger's London flat is none other than former follower of the Dark Lord Thorfinn Rowle. This reporter could hardly believe the news, but readers, rest assured, it is true. An anonymous source within the Ministry confirmed the report and an additional source close to the Rowle family also confirmed its veracity quite early this morning._

 _Miss Granger has long been known for her liaisons with powerful and famous wizards, but this might be the first time that she has ever canoodled with one quite so dangerous and infamous. Rowle was only recently released from Azkaban Prison on a controversial conditional parole. He was a well-known follower of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the last wizarding war imprisoned on suspicion of murder and torture. Transcripts from his trial following the final battle reveal that he was responsible for a joint attack on the Golden Trio with accomplice Antonin Dolohov. Did the excitement of fighting for her life create some long-held romantic feelings for the handsome, but terrifying Dark wizard?_

 _The source within the Ministry can confirm that Rowle was attacked in Granger's flat this past Sunday by Charles Weasley while he was wearing nothing but a wet towel. One can only imagine that he was not visiting Granger for the sole purpose of borrowing her shower. Though all charges were eventually dropped against Mister Weasley, the record of the arrest is still a matter of public record. As a condition of his parole, Mister Rowle has had his magic bound for the next two years. His status within the magical community is officially listed as 'Squib' until the time comes when he is able to resume use of his magic._

 _Requests for comments from the Minister for Magic regarding the appalling romantic choice of his employee and self-proclaimed close friend were returned unopened. One can only hope that the most recent victims of Granger's heartbreaking spells, Kenneth Towler and Charles Weasley, can find better replacements for the objects of their affections. Indeed one who willingly beds down with known Death Eaters is not the kind of witch one brings home to meet the family._

Hermione could feel bile rising up her esophagus. There had been a stack of letters waiting for her on her desk when she arrived, but she foolishly assumed they were simply requests for new house-elves. She could only imagine what kind of nonsensical garbage she was going to find when she started opening envelopes. How did Rita Skeeter find out? Well, that one seemed easy enough to answer anyway. The source close to the Rowle family must have been Zacharias. He promised he would make life difficult for her after she proved her loyalty to Thorfinn.

"Is this true, Granger?" Kenneth spat again.

She didn't know how to answer. Part of her wanted to tell him to fuck off and mind his own business. Another part of her felt like maybe she should tell him the truth. She wasn't ashamed of Thorfinn. In her delay to answer his question, Kenneth's anger grew steadily. He stepped closer to her, effectively pinning her body against the wall between the lift doors. His head was bent down to allow him to yell in her face.

"A fucking Death Eater?! You would rather degrade yourself for an ex-convict who can't even perform magic instead of spend another evening with me?"

Hermione could feel tears prickling her eyes. The entire Level was silent except for Kenneth's harsh words. Every single person was staring at the display. She could not remember the last time she felt so humiliated.

"Is it the danger you crave?" he demanded, grabbing her upper arm in a tight grip. "Do you like pain? Fear? I could have given you all of that."

His fingers digging into her arm were beginning to hurt. She knew that once he released her there would be bruises marking the exact spot he touched her. Kenneth did not seem to care that there was an audience. His hand tightened on her arm. A smile crossed his lips when she gasped in pain. Hermione tried to reach for her wand, but he was too strong.

"I'm glad I found out before we were ever anything," he continued, his tone rising. "You are nothing but a disgusting, used-up slag!"

Rough hands grabbed Kenneth's shoulders and yanked him away from Hermione. She was too relieved in the first few seconds to realize that Charlie had the Head of their department on the floor underneath his heavy boot. Kenneth was staring up at the former dragonkeeper with wide, terrified eyes. Charlie's red hair was sparking, a trait he shared with Hermione when he was very angry.

"Don't you ever touch her again!" Charlie shouted.

"Get him off of me!" Kenneth ordered anyone who would listen. Somehow he must have believed his power as everyone's boss would be enough for one of them to face the ire of the wizard used to wrangling dragons. He was wrong. "I could have you fired for this, Weasley!"

"Do you really think I care about that? What gives you the right to lay your hands on a woman, Towler? You're disgusting!"

Charlie removed his foot from Kenneth's chest. All of his attention was turned back towards Hermione. She was still pressed up against the wall too frightened to move. He placed a gentle hand on the arm that had only moments before been injured.

"Are you all right, Mine?" he asked in a whisper.

All she could do was nod her head. She didn't trust the words that might have come out of her mouth. Kenneth rose from the floor, his face and neck bright red. Glaring at everyone who failed to assist him in his time of need, he stormed off to the back of the Level where his opulent office could provide him a safe place to lick his wounds.

"Thank you, Charlie," Hermione said, unable to meet his concerned eyes. She was too embarrassed to remain out in the open in front of everyone and she knew that one glance into his blue eyes would send her into convulsions of tears.

She was only a few steps away from him when he spoke again.

"I didn't tell anyone, Hermione, I promise."

She knew she could trust him. No, blabbing secrets to the paper was not something that Charlie would ever lower himself to do. Without turning back around to face him, Hermione walked back to the sanctuary of her empty office trying desperately to ignore all of the stares that followed. She was alone for thirty seconds before a smirking Matthew opened the door.

"A Death Eater? Really? You really have no shame, do you?"

Hermione quietly ordered him to leave, but he would not budge. He seemed to find her repeated requests to be alone amusing.

"What do you think your Death Eater is going to do when he finds out what Towler just did to you out there? Will he behave?"

"Get out of my office _now_ , Matthew!"

Her boss' smirk only grew larger. He had no intention of leaving just when he was having so much fun.

"Why do I get the feeling that life around here is about to get a lot more interesting? Maybe I should stay late tonight. See what my assistant _really_ gets up to when she should be working. Does Rowle let you carry his bucket for him?"

"Get. The. Fuck. Out."

Her teeth were clenched so hard her jaw was hurting. Matthew laughed at her discomfort.

"Any naughty behavior after hours?"

"Yeah, right on top of your desk," she muttered quietly to herself.

"Afraid I didn't quite catch that, love."

She didn't know how his smirk could get any larger or more obnoxious, but it did. Hermione wanted to hex him out of sheer frustration. Before she could, she blurted out what she had just said without thinking. Matthew took a moment to let the words sink in before bursting out laughing.

"Every day I learn just a little more about you, Granger. Maybe you should do a repeat performance on top of Towler's desk. Bet your Death Eater would love that especially after Towler's little display in front of everyone. I know for a fact that he doesn't ward his door at night."

He actually had the audacity to wink at her before he stepped out of the office.

"Think of me, Granger."

She spent the rest of the day afraid to leave her office. Letters continued to arrive, some even in distinctive red envelopes. Familiar names and addresses were scrawled across the front of many. She didn't have the strength to open or read any of them. At half past five she was startled by Thorfinn's abrupt entrance into her office. He had never been there that early in the evening.

"Thorfinn, what are…"

He crossed the small office in just a few steps to pull her into his arms. Hermione hated that the simple act caused her to burst into tears. She wanted to keep him protected from the reality of what she had experienced that day. Without loosening his hold on his witch, Thorfinn explained his early arrival.

"Pasha showed me the paper this morning. We thought it best to keep it from Reina. She doesn't need anything else to worry about."

Hermione clung to the safety of his arms. Thorfinn didn't seem to mind her clutching at his robes and burying her face into his chest. Several times he dropped kisses on top of her head and squeezed her tighter. He spoke soothing words into her ear to calm her down. While he didn't yet know any of the details of what she had experienced that day, he could imagine. His attention was caught by the letters stacked on top of her desk.

"What are all of these?" he asked.

"Letters from my fans, I'm sure," she retorted.

Thorfinn released her long enough to run his fingers over the telltale scorch marks on her desk. He had received many a howler in his day. His father and his grandmother were masters of them. He sighed when he realized part of what she must have been experiencing that day.

"I'm so sorry, Princess. This is all my fault."

Hermione pushed him away.

"Don't you _dare_ , Thorfinn Rowle! I knew what I was getting myself into and I still chose to go through with it."

"Your life would be simpler without me in it. Weasley seems anxious to make you happy."

"No, Charlie is anxious to make _Charlie_ happy. Our entire relationship was always about him."

She stepped away from her wizard needing a moment to calm down. Thorfinn reached out for her, unknowingly grabbing her bruised arm. Hermione hissed at the sensation of him lightly touching her arm. She tried to pull her arm back and pretend like nothing had happened, but yet again he was proving himself to not be the idiot so many always assumed her had been.

Thorfinn pulled her left sleeve up to reveal the purple marks left by Kenneth earlier that morning. His jaw clenched at the obvious handprint marring his witch's skin. Hermione had been frightened of him plenty of times in her past. Somehow this moment was different. She was afraid of what he was capable of if she told him what happened.

"Who did this, Princess?"

She refused to answer. He was tenacious.

"Was it Weasley?"

"No! He actually pulled him off of me."

His jaw clenched tighter and his porcelain complexion flushed pink.

" _Who_ did Weasley pull of you?"

She still refused to answer.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me, Princess. I can stand here all night."

"Towler," she whispered.

Thorfinn released his hold on her arm. In seconds he was out the door of the office. Ignoring all of the surprised gasps and whispers from the few remaining workers left at that time of night, he hastened his steps to the back of the Level. Hermione struggled to catch up with his long strides. She was practically jogging behind him before she caught up.

"Thorfinn, stop. It was nothing. I'm not even hurt."

His steps ceased at her words. He turned around slowly to level her with a harsh glare.

" _No one_ touches my witch and gets away with it."

She begged him the entire journey to Kenneth's office to stop. He acted as if he didn't even hear her speak. By the time they reached the open door to the Department Head's large office, Hermione was once again in tears. He was going to do something stupid and get himself in trouble. If he landed back in Azkaban, that was it for him. He wouldn't be allowed to leave again.

"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" Kenneth demanded when Thorfinn crossed into his office.

Without saying a word in response Thorfinn stalked across the well-appointed room. Kenneth's eyes grew wide when he recognized who the man was. He was stuttering in an effort to speak through his fear. Thorfinn leaned down to tower over the seated man.

"Let's make something very clear, Towler," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "If you _ever_ touch Hermione again, my parole be damned. You will be dead. And I know how to make it hurt."

Thorfinn didn't linger long in the office after his promise was conveyed. He took Hermione's hand and silently led her out of the hated man's office. Quiet laughter assaulted their ears before they were able to get very far. Hermione glanced over her shoulder to make eye contact with a smirking Matthew. He had apparently enjoyed the show very much.

"Go home, Princess," Thorfinn demanded when they approached the lifts. "You didn't sleep well last night and I don't want you here right now."

"You can't just order me about, Thorfinn. I'm not a child."

Thorfinn wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his chest. After several moments of deep, passionate kisses from the man, Hermione was ready to do just about anything he told her. Of course he was right about her being exhausted. And she _really_ didn't want to be there a second longer.

"I will go back to my flat after my shift is over to pack a bag," he promised. "I will see you in the morning."

They kissed one final time inside the lifts before she exited onto the Atrium level. She hated to leave without him, but he was still required to keep working as a condition of his parole. It would be awful for him to be sent back to Azkaban just because she prevented him from doing his menial job in the Ministry.

She snuck past Pasha's flat careful not to make a noise. In that moment she really just wanted a few minutes to be by herself. Hermione kicked off her shoes and plopped down on her sofa. It didn't take her long to fall asleep.

* * *

A whooshing sound passing through her flat woke Hermione up long after the sun had set. She rubbed at her eyes until the silvery lynx floating around her came into focus. Surprised at seeing Kingsley's patronus for the first time in many years, her mind travelled back to the day of Bill and Fleur's wedding, the day she obliviated Thorfinn. The lynx floated in her line of sight. As soon as it was satisfied that she was giving it her complete attention, Kingsley's baritone filled the small room.

 _"Towler's been found murdered. Rowle's been arrested."_


	14. Chapter 14

_Author's Note: Please forgive the delay in getting this chapter posted. I've been distracted by updating The Minister's Secret. That's a bad Canimal! I have the next chapter of this story outlined and ready to write, so hopefully there won't be a long wait next time._

Chapter Fourteen

 _"Towler's been found murdered. Rowle's been arrested."_

Hermione stared at the lynx patronus for several long seconds before it finally dissipated into thin air. She could recite the words back, but was struggling to comprehend them. What had happened in the few short hours since she left the Ministry? Part of her wondered if she was not still asleep and Kingsley's patronus had only been part of a horrible dream she would soon wake up from. She was having trouble believing that so much had happened in just a short period of time.

A glance at the clock showed the time to be just a few minutes past eight in the evening. She had been home only a little over two hours. How was it possible that she could fall asleep with her world one way and wake up from a nap to find everything had changed? Remembering herself, she cast her own patronus after a few tries. The familiar and comforting otter floated through her living room awaiting her message.

 _"I will meet you at the Ministry in half an hour, Kingsley."_

The otter shot through her closed window. As she watched it disappear into the darkness, she wanted to break down in tears, but knew that was the last thing that Thorfinn needed in those critical moments. Whatever transpired after she left for home could certainly be explained. She slipped her shoes back on and attempted to smooth down her unruly hair.

Moments later she was standing in front of Pasha's flat knocking on the door. Ordinarily he would not be home at that time of night. Just like her, he was a consummate workaholic. His job with the Russian embassy could be stressful and led to many long hours. At least that was the excuse he had given her in the past when she asked. They both were reluctant to return home to an empty flat at the end of each working day. It was easier to simply work late.

"Hermione, what a nice surprise," Pasha said seconds after answering the door.

Before another word could be spoken, Amelia came to the door. Hermione was pleased to see that the hex marks left on her face and neck the night before by her horrible father were almost completely gone. She confidently stepped in front of Pasha to get a better look at their visitor.

"Are you a real princess? Uncle Finn says you are, but mummy said he just calls you that to tease you."

Hermione struggled not to cry at the innocent question from the young girl. The reality of what she was about to face once she left the safety of their building was beginning to sink in. She attempted her brightest smile for the curious girl.

"Your mummy is right. He just teases me."

Seemingly satisfied with the answer to her query, Amelia slipped back inside the flat. Pasha had an odd expression on his face. He had always been a perceptive man. Without asking her for elaboration, he stepped out into the corridor, closing the front door behind him.

"Thorfinn's been arrested," she declared.

Pasha's eyes widened at the revelation. Hermione quickly explained that she had very little information, but was on her way to the Ministry to find out more. He seemed as surprised by the news that the older wizard was arrested on suspicion of murder as Hermione was. It did not take long for Hermione to tell him everything that she knew.

He wasted no time pulling her into a comforting embrace when the barrage of tears began. All of the stress from that horrible day seemed to hit at once. Pasha had her lay her head on his shoulder while he ran a comforting hand up and down her back. His soothing whispers in Russian were unintelligible to her, but she appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

"I had a long talk this morning with Thorfinn," Pasha explained. "He wants his sister as far away from her husband as possible. I could not agree more. My family has a beautiful dacha not far from Moscow. Thorfinn wants me to take them there."

Hermione broke the embrace at the startling revelation. Thorfinn actually _wanted_ his sister and nieces to leave the country? He had not said a word to her about it when they last spoke. Of course there had not been much time after he learned that Kenneth laid his hands on his witch.

"The Smith family might have some influence in this country, but it's nothing like the Poliakoff family in Russia. We can keep them safe. I already promised Thorfinn that I would take them there as soon as possible. I will make certain that Reina does not see papers."

"Thank you so much for all of your help, Pasha. You have been extremely kind."

Pasha smiled warmly at her thanks.

"Maybe we will both be lucky and end up in same family," he quipped with a wink.

Hermione hugged the wizard one final time before rushing out of the building. Her path to the alley was unimpeded. She wasted not another moment Apparating directly to the Ministry building. Bernie the night guard nodded solemnly in her direction the moment she pushed open the main door. A short time later found her standing inside the Minister's office.

"Come sit down, Hermione," Kingsley gently ordered.

She almost collapsed onto the comfortable sofa next to the concerned Minister. The stress of the past two days was getting to her. She was exhausted and only moments away from breaking out into a fresh round of tears. Only the internal reminder that she must remain strong for Thorfinn kept her relatively calm.

"What happened, Kings?"

"Towler was attacked in a lift," he explained. "His body was found about an hour and a half ago by a worker headed home. Absolutely brutal attack. No magic was used. Someone wanted him dead enough to kill him with their bare hands."

Hermione bit back the retort that there were likely many alive who felt that way about the recently deceased Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Despite being lauded as a potential future Minister, there were plenty alive who did not like the man.

"Why was Thorfinn arrested?"

Kingsley sighed deeply before he formulated his answer. Hermione hated how he could switch from confidant to politician in the blink of an eye. There were times she could not stand speaking to her friend. She got the feeling this was going to be one of those moments.

"He was in the building at the time of the crime. He had motive and opportunity. It wasn't much of stretch to peg him a suspect especially considering no magic was used in the murder."

"And it also doesn't hurt that he was a known Death Eater," she spat, disgusted by his news.

"Hermione, I know you don't believe he did this, but please examine the facts. Towler's physical attack on you was all over the Ministry this afternoon. I can only imagine how distressed he was to find out about it. Charlie came straight to me after it happened. I had an appointment scheduled in the morning with Towler to discuss disciplinary measures against him. He should have never laid a hand on you, my girl."

She was furious, _beyond_ furious. Her blood pressure was rising enough that she could actually hear her heart beating in her ears.

" _Why_ was Thorfinn arrested? He certainly wasn't the only one with motive and opportunity in this building."

"You will have to speak to the aurors if you want more information."

"Oh, I certainly intend to."

She rose immediately from the sofa despite Kingsley's repeated requests that she stay there to calm down. His words rang through her ears as she pushed open the large door to the office. It was not hard to find the bulk of the auror force that evening. A large crowd of officials from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were gathered outside the lifts. When Hermione tried to get closer, she was stopped.

"I _demand_ to speak with Head Auror Potter," she practically shouted across the Atrium.

Her angry, insistent voice carried over the scene. Within moments she spotted a stricken Harry moving through the crowd in her direction. Seeing her best friend did not calm her even slightly. Hermione could feel her fury rising.

"You really shouldn't be here right now, 'Mione," he chastised. "We are still investigating."

"Oh, are you? Because I was under the impression that you've already found your killer."

Harry was visibly uncomfortable with her accusation. Several of the working Aurors and DMLE personnel were staring in their direction. Hermione did not care. When she spotted a few openly gaping at the scene unfolding in front of them, she glared. They pretended they weren't looking and hastily looked away.

"Just immediately go after the one with the Dark Mark, huh? No need to find any other suspects. No need to find the one that is _actually_ responsible. Just assume it's Thorfinn." She did not even try to keep her voice lowered.

"'Mione, that's not what happened. Matthew Kettletoft overheard Rowle threaten Towler in his office earlier this evening. Threatened to _kill_ him. Rowle confirmed the truth of his statement."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Harry, he said it. I was there with him."

Harry was shocked. He could not understand why she was so shocked and upset if she had actually been present for the moment that the lead suspect threatened the victim.

"Well, then why are you so surprised?"

"Because Thorfinn threatened to kill him _if_ he ever touched me again. Then we left his office and I went home. Kenneth _didn't_ touch me again."

"To threaten someone's life is very serious."

"Don't you dare use that Head Auror tone with me, Harry James Potter! What would _you_ have said to him after you saw these marks on me?"

She ripped her sleeve up to expose the dark purple bruises she received that morning from the victim. Harry's eyes widened and he actually gasped when he saw the marks. Hermione could see him clench his jaw when the realization of what he was saying became clear.

"Or Ron? Or any other member of the Weasley family?" she continued. "Fuck, Charlie _did_ attack Kenneth. Is he locked up in the cell next to Thorfinn?"

Harry shuffled his feet, refusing to look his longtime friend in the eye.

"No, we haven't interviewed Charlie yet," he admitted, fearful of her reaction.

"Where is Thorfinn?" Hermione demanded.

"He's down on Level Eleven waiting for a free auror to transport him back to Azkaban."

Hermione was afraid that she was going to throw up all over her best friend's robes. Just the mention of the hated wizard prison made her stomach churn and her palms sweaty. The memory of Thorfinn showing her his prison number tattoo the night they were first intimate ran through her mind. What was going to happen to him if he was taken back to Azkaban? Would they just leave him there? Forget him and move on to the next mystery to solve?

"Why is he being sent back there?" she asked.

"He's been charged with _murder_ , 'Mione."

"Yes, _charged_ , not convicted. You're sending him to Azkaban before he's even had a trial?"

Harry attempted to argue with her about their treatment of their prime suspect in custody, but Hermione was not having any of it. She was incensed.

"Sirius Black!" she shouted, her voice carrying over the entire Ministry Atrium. All around them curious onlookers turned to view the scene unfolding. "Sirius was sent to Azkaban without a trial, Harry. Remember?"

"She's made a very valid point, Harry," Kingsley agreed, startling them both with his abrupt arrival.

Hermione felt heartened slightly by Kingsley's support. She granted him a small smile in gratitude. Harry, however, was less than pleased by the reminder of the travesty of justice that was committed against his beloved godfather. In his frustration he began tugging at his unruly black hair, only serving to make it look even messier than it usually was. Hermione had flashbacks to sixth year when her fellow Gryffindor was convinced Draco Malfoy was up to no good, but no one else would believe him.

"It's not the same," he insisted. "Rowle was found guilty in a trial ten years ago."

For the first time in seventeen years of friendship, Hermione sincerely was afraid she might curse Harry. She had her hand in her pocket clenching her wand. The desire to make her best friend pay for making such a ridiculous statement was strong. She forced herself to take a deep, calming breath.

"Yes, he was found guilty of being a Death Eater, Harry. Not killing Kenneth Towler! Just because he made a serious mistake when he was younger doesn't mean he is responsible for all crimes committed around him for the rest of his life."

Harry couldn't argue with her logic. He rarely could. She quickly demanded to be taken to see Thorfinn. Her resolve was faltering. If she did not see him soon, she was afraid she would lose grip on her sanity. She was so afraid for him she could hardly breathe. Harry struggled with the desire to tell her 'no', but finally relented.

"We will have to walk directly past the crime scene to get in a lift," Harry revealed. "We are still investigating. Will you be all right, 'Mione?"

She did not hesitate to assure him that she would be all right. How could she ever face Thorfinn again if she failed to come directly to him in his time of need because she was afraid of seeing something upsetting? If she could bravely fight Lord Voldemort's minions in a gruesome, bloody war, she could remain calm in the presence of a single dead body. Even if it did belong to a man she had practically grown up with.

Kingsley's large, warm hand slipped in her much smaller, much sweatier hand. He interlaced their fingers to provide even more physical contact than a simple handhold. Hermione gave the Minister a small, grateful smile. She knew that the two aurors leading her to the lifts had a great deal of experience dealing with unpleasant and dangerous crime scenes. Determined not to disappoint either one of them by her tears, she resolved to remain stoic in the face of whatever she might see.

At least the Battle for Hogwarts prepared her somewhat for the blood and depravity she encountered. As Harry led them into the heart of the investigation, Hermione's eyes met familiar, cold, dead, dark green eyes. She had to stifle a sob at the scene. Kingsley's grip tightened slightly. Kenneth was lying on the floor of the lift in a deep red pool of his own blood. His neck was twisted at an awkward angle and his torso was covered in brutal stab wounds. When she realized that both of his hands had been sawed off at the wrists, she almost vomited. How could anyone be so cruel?

No, she did not like Kenneth Towler. Never had really. He had been an almost constant irritant to her since he was thirteen years old. On her very first night in Hogwarts Castle she entered the Gryffindor Common Room excited to see where she would be living the next seven years. Only steps through the portrait hole a skinny third year stepped in front of her so suddenly that her face smashed into his chest. Kenneth introduced himself by pulling her hair. Three weeks later after the first Hogsmeade visit of the year, she found a box of chocolate frogs with her name on it waiting for her at her favorite table in the library. She was thankful that Viktor asked her to the Yule Ball when he did fourth year because Kenneth asked her only hours later to be his date.

Five years of incidents like those passed. After the war and after she'd completed her NEWTs, she was surprised to see him again in the Ministry canteen on her first day. His face lit up when he saw her. Eight years of inept and somewhat frustrating flirting followed. Even though he could annoy her like no one else alive, he was never a _bad_ guy. Simply socially maladroit in many ways and completely clueless. His attack on her that morning had been stunningly out of character. Usually he was a sweet and bumbling idiot.

She felt immense sorrow at the end of his life. He did not deserve what happened to him. No one did. Seeing his body only confirmed her stalwart belief that Thorfinn was not responsible for Kenneth's demise. This was too cold and calculating. Almost as if the killer had been planning it for some time. Even in his most active Death Eater days Thorfinn was more passionate and in the moment. He accidentally killed one of his own comrades during the excitement of the Astronomy Tower because the blood lust was on him. He was not a man to calmly wait and plan a murder. If he had killed Kenneth, he would have done it the moment he saw the bruises on Hermione's arm.

Harry opened a free lift to allow Kingsley and Hermione to enter. Once the doors shut closed he cast a nonverbal spell on the panel with all of the buttons. A hidden button marked 'Level Eleven' appeared. Only authorized personnel were allowed in the lowest level of the building. Hermione had never been there. She had never had a reason until then.

There was nothing special about the secret level that housed the Ministry holding cells. After a lift ride of complete silence, the doors opened onto a long, dingy hallway. Hermione half-expected the enchanted lighting to begin flickering like so many creepy basement corridors did in the movies. Thin lime green carpet stretched out before them as far as they could see. Harry led the way again towards the guard station. As a former auror of countless years, Kingsley was just as familiar with the unnerving location as his current Head Auror.

Once Harry pushed open a non-descript door in the middle of the corridor, Hermione fought the urge to laugh at her surroundings. For a brief moment she thought she had been transported back in time to one of those hideous Muggle police stations so prevalent on television in the seventies and eighties. An oppressive smell of burnt coffee assaulted her olfactory senses. The mismatched plastic chairs in clashing shades of bright orange, lime green and butter yellow made her eyes hurt. Two guards were seated at their metal desks shuffling paperwork. The sudden arrival of the Head Auror and the Minister for Magic surprised the two middle-aged wizards. They leapt to their feet.

"Are you here to transport the prisoner to Azkaban, sir?"

Every muscle in Hermione's body tensed at the man's question. Kingsley's hand squeezed hers in an attempt at reassurance. Harry took a moment to explain that they were there to speak with the prisoner, not to transport him just yet. Hermione willed her churning stomach to stop trying to make her sick. Thinking about Thorfinn being dragged back to prison made her want to weep. Somehow she got the feeling that if he was taken back to the island in the North Sea, she would never see him again. That made her sorrowful. How had he made such an impact on her life in such a short time?

Hermione followed Harry and the guards with a distinct feeling of both anticipation and apprehension. Her kiss in the lift with Thorfinn only hours earlier felt like a lifetime ago. Small cells that also resembled what she had seen in movies were visible down the narrow space they all walked. At the end of the row Thorfinn sat in his cell on his narrow bed staring at the wall. He turned his head at the noise of their approach. Once his eyes met Hermione's he jumped up from the bed.

"Stand back, Rowle," Harry ordered.

Thorfinn complied instantly. His blue eyes never left Hermione. She knew she was likely hurting Kingsley's hand by the strength of the squeezing, but he never said anything. The guard opened the cell door. Harry turned to Hermione and advised her that she would only have fifteen minutes. Kingsley released her hand and gave her a gentle, unnecessary push towards her wizard. She was wrapped up in his safe, strong arms before the door even clanged shut behind her.

"You know I didn't do this, don't you, Princess?" he asked between fervent, desperate kisses.

"Of course I know you didn't!" she snapped back, pushing his burly frame a few inches away from hers. "Have a little faith in me."

He chuckled softly at her response before kissing her again. Hermione had never felt the way she did when he kissed her. While she had certainly experienced passion before in her life, this was altogether on another level. The thought that he might be taken away from her made her eyes swim with tears. When they started running down her cheeks into their mouths, Thorfinn broke the kiss to pull her against his firm chest.

"Shh, Princess. Don't waste any tears on me. I'm not worth it."

Hermione smacked him in the stomach causing him to laugh. The sound felt strange in his tiny cell.

"I think you _are_ worth it," she retorted, pushing back from him again. Before she could get very far, Thorfinn circled his arms around her back again. "This is all so unfair! They're only trying to prosecute you because you're an easy mark. I won't stand for it!"

Thorfinn smirked.

"Should I be expecting a hand-knit hat from you soon?"

She hated that she described her failed campaign to free the house elves. They had been lying in bed wrapped up in each other's limbs talking about dozens of different subjects related to their lives. When she told him about S.P.E.W he almost suffocated laughing. She hit him again in the stomach just as she had that wonderfully lazy day in bed.

"This is no joking matter, Thorfinn! I will hire the best representation available. This is all a horrible mess."

Her tears returned in earnest. He tightened his arms and began to whisper soothing nonsense. His lips brushed the top of her bushy head over and over again in an effort to calm her down. Her tears plucked at his heartstrings like nothing else.

"I don't know how much longer I have until they take me back to Azkaban, love. Please don't cry."

"I told Harry that sending you back to Azkaban without a trial is wrong. Kingsley agrees with me."

Hermione stared up into Thorfinn's face. He seemed relieved by her statement. She hoped Kingsley could use his influence to keep him in the Ministry cells until his eventual release. Sending him back to Azkaban would be his worst nightmare. He confessed to her in the security of the darkness of her bedroom that if faced with a boggart, he had no doubts that it would be an auror sending him back to prison.

"Does Reina know yet?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Pasha is taking them all to Russia in the morning. We agreed it would be best not to tell her. She would try to come to your defense and might be found."

Thorfinn was pleased with her answer.

"I really like him," he stated. "He seems like one of the good guys."

"He is. He will keep your family safe."

Pasha's words about them both being in the same family ran through her mind as Thorfinn held her against him in silence for a short time. Everything had happened so quickly between them. Yes, they had a long history reaching back seventeen years, but that didn't count. Despite him willingly admitting that he did everything he could to save her life at Hogwarts, she knew theirs wasn't always a happy story. Did she want what Pasha said to come true? Imagining her life without Thorfinn in it suddenly seemed unbearable. She couldn't stop the tears despite her desire. Thorfinn kissed the top of her head and lowered his voice.

"You will never know how much it means to me that you are on my side, Princess. These last few days with you have been a dream."

Hermione wiped at her eyes.

"Stop talking like that!" she ordered.

"Like what?"

"Like you're giving up and you're just going to let them take you back to Azkaban without a fight."

"Princess…"

"No, Thorfinn! I _know_ you didn't do this. If you're not willing to fight to clear your name, then I will just do it for you!"

Thorfinn covered her ranting lips with his for a scorching kiss.

"What did I do to deserve someone like you?"

She could feel the tension in the cell rise rapidly to oppressive levels. His blue eyes were just as full of tears as her own brown eyes were.

"Nothing," she teased. "I'm just using you for sex."

The tension broke with their laughter.

"I think I can live with that," he chortled.

Harry clearing his throat behind them reminded them all too well of the horrible situation they were in. Hermione stepped up on her tiptoes to kiss Thorfinn. He didn't care that there was an audience either. When they finally broke apart, Hermione almost laughed at Harry's red face. Kingsley did. Reluctantly she stepped outside of the cell door. When the guard closed it back, she reached through bars to grasp Thorfinn's hand one more time.

"I meant what I said," she said. "I will fight for you. This isn't right."

"I expect a better acronym for your campaign than _spew_ ," he teased. "Something less embarrassing."

Harry and Kingsley both burst out in loud laughter at his joke. Hermione burst out into loud tears. Thorfinn reached through the bars to wipe away her tears.

"Remember what I said, Princess. I'm not worth it."

Kingsley grasped Hermione's arm to gently pull her away from the cell. In her place Harry stepped up to address the prisoner. He informed the blonde that they were going to keep him in the Ministry cells until the investigation was completed and he was taken to trial. Thorfinn was visibly reassured to know that he wasn't about to be carted back to Azkaban. As Kingsley led Hermione out of the holding cells area, Thorfinn watched her every step. She gave him a final smile over her shoulder before he completely disappeared from view.

It was a struggle to keep her emotions under control in the lift. Sensing her turmoil, Kingsley wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She appreciated the gesture.

"It's easy to tell that he cares a great deal about you," Kingsley stated.

"Yes," she agreed. "I feel the same way. I'm going to do whatever it takes to find the real killer so I can bring him home." 


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Thursday

She woke up much earlier than she intended. Before Hermione left the Ministry the night before following her tearful meeting with Thorfinn, Kingsley threatened to personally throw her out of the building if she even dared come back to work before at least Monday morning. Naturally she tried to argue with him about the importance of keeping busy, but he would hear none of it.

"I promise that you will be allowed to visit Mr. Rowle every single day at six," Kingsley stated. "But if you go anywhere near Level Four, I will drag you out by your gloriously wild hair."

Hermione knew Kingsley well enough to know he was not a man who made empty threats. She had no doubt he would follow through if she returned to her horrible office against his wishes, so she returned to her depressingly empty flat in an effort to get some much needed sleep.

Of course her body refused to cooperate with her mind. Despite running on very little sleep, Hermione tossed and turned all night. Every time she rolled over to try to get comfortable in another position she was reminded of the missing wizard currently _not_ in her bed where she wanted him. Her mind worried herself sick about what was going to happen next. She had to save Thorfinn from a future stuck in Azkaban. Hours of thinking and plotting had brought her no closer to a suitable course of action.

A knock at her door a few minutes after seven startled her enough to trip her feet up on her sheets as she tried to get out of bed. Her knee struck the floor painfully. Cursing her horrible luck, she hastily pulled a robe over her thin pajamas as she crossed to the front door. Remembering the last time she had an unexpected visitor pounding on her door while she tried to sleep, she grasped her wand prepared for battle if necessary.

"Good morning," greeted Reina. "I hope I didn't wake you."

Hermione's shoulders relaxed when it became clear that her guest was likely _not_ going to curse her. Especially since she came bearing a plate of fresh, steaming muffins that were making Hermione's stomach do flips in anticipation. She invited her guest in moments later despite a nagging fear that she was there to see her brother. How was she going to explain his absence in a way that would keep his secret?

"I was awake," Hermione assure her as she led them both into the kitchen.

"Pasha was able to get a portkey to Moscow for later this morning. We should be leaving within the hour."

Hermione was pleased with the good news. There had been a modicum of concern that he would not be able to take them out of the country so quickly. Bureaucratic red tape was alive and well in both worlds, Muggle and Magical. She busied her hands with preparing a pot of tea. Reina sat down at the kitchen table without an invitation. It became all too clear to Hermione that she was not in a hurry to leave.

"What happened to Thorfinn?" Reina asked.

Hermione dropped a teacup at the abruptness of the question. Reina certainly was not there to waste anyone's time. As she reached down to pick the jagged pieces off of the floor, Reina muttered a quick charm to repair the damage. Hermione mumbled a quiet 'thanks' before picking it up off the floor. She did not want to answer the woman's question. There had been an agreement between Pasha, Thorfinn and Hermione to keep the truth of his arrest away from his younger sister for as long as possible.

In addition to simply not _wanting_ to answer Reina's query, Hermione wasn't even sure where to begin. Flat out refusal would only increase her suspicions. Half-truths and tiny lies would unravel. It would be best to admit what was going on.

"Look, Hermione, I'm not an idiot," Reina clearly stated. "I know something is wrong. Pasha spent all night last night running to the window every time an owl flew by. He was up before even the girls were this morning to intercept the paper. It doesn't take a genius to figure out he didn't want me to see the headlines. And where's Finnie? If he was here he would already be next door to spend some time with us before we leave."

Hermione could not argue with the woman without coming off sounding like an idiotic lunatic. She was one hundred percent correct. For Pasha to pull himself out of the comfort of his bed at an ungodly early hour, he would have to have proper motivation. Destroying the morning's paper that was sure to have an article or several about Towler's murder and Thorfinn's arrest was likely one of the few things that could get the notoriously anti-morning wizard up. She knew she could no longer attempt to keep the truth from the older witch.

"Before I tell you anything I need a wizard's oath from you that you will still go to Russia this morning."

"That bad, huh?"

Reina paused to stare at her hands lying on the kitchen table. It was apparent that she was reluctant to agree completely. A wizard's oath was not something to take lightly. Though not as serious and binding as an Unbreakable Vow, she could experience some serious repercussions if she chose to go against the terms of the oath. It took her almost two solid minutes to agree. She and Hermione removed their wands from the safety of their pockets to perform the oath.

"Okay, now tell me," Reina gently ordered.

"Thorfinn was arrested last night."

The blonde witch sighed at the news of her brother's incarceration. Hermione thought she did not seem surprised by the shocking news. Perhaps she had been anticipating his return to Azkaban all along.

"I thought it was something like that," she said, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her robes. "What violation of his parole are they accusing him of committing?"

"Murder."

Hermione did not see the sense in sugarcoating the bad news. Reina deserved better than that. If she was planning on leaving for Pasha's family dacha within the hour, she did not want to waste time tiptoeing around the facts. The former Miss Rowle's eyes widened at the unbelievable news.

"Wow, not what I expected. Who is he believed to have murdered?"

"Kenneth Towler."

Reina's eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed in concentration.

"The name sounds familiar, but I guess I don't remember him."

"He was a year ahead of you in Gryffindor. He was the Head of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, essentially one of my bosses. My boss' boss' boss."

The entire story tumbled out of Hermione's mouth. She explained how Kenneth used to torment her in school in an awkward show of affection and how that spilled over into their adult interactions at the Ministry. The details of the previous day when he confronted her about Thorfinn being the mystery squib attacked in her flat days earlier were made clear. Reina was angry to hear about the manner in which he grabbed her arm with such fierce and insulted her in front of the entire department. Unfortunately she was all too familiar with a man physically and verbally abusing her. By the end of the explanation when she described her meeting with Thorfinn in Level Eleven, Reina was incensed.

"Well, if you ask me, I think it's obvious that it was Zacharias' cousin," she spat, accidentally crumbling the half-eaten muffin in her hand in her fury.

"Matthew? Why do you think so?"

"I remember where I heard Towler's name," Reina explained. "The more you told me, the more I remembered. One night about a week or so ago, I was putting the girls to bed and Zach's cousin stopped by unexpectedly. He had been drinking and was absolutely furious about something. Ordinarily I would not give a rat's fat arse what Matthew or anyone else in that family was upset about, but I stood outside the open door to Zach's study.

"Matthew was furious that he had been passed over for consideration for some position in the Ministry. Something about goblins I think. Like I said, I didn't really care. He started cursing Towler's name, saying that it was all his fault that he hadn't been promoted any further than he had. Started shouting about how much he hated that Towler had been given the Department Head job when it _should_ have gone to some other bloke. Don't remember the name. He said if that other one had gotten the job, he would've been moved to a different job."

"How can you be so certain that it was Matthew?" Hermione asked, hating herself for questioning the theory. "I understand him being upset about not having a better job, but _murder_ doesn't seem the right way about getting a promotion."

"Maybe I'm grasping at straws, but think about it, Hermione. Matthew hates Towler. Zacharias hates Thorfinn. What better way to get what they both want than to have it look like Thorfinn killed Towler?"

Hermione had to admit that it made some sense. She had wondered herself while sleep was eluding her the night before if her direct supervisor had not somehow been involved. He was never at the Ministry later than five or half past five at the absolute latest. Why was he there late enough to provide a statement that Thorfinn threatened to kill Kenneth? Ordinarily he would have been home for hours at that point. She also did not care for the way he smirked at her when they left Kenneth's office after Thorfinn made his promise. There was more to the simple twitch of his lips.

The Hufflepuff Smiths were known for being fiercely loyal to each other. If one was insulted, they were all insulted. If one was snubbed, they would all band together to create misery in that person's life wherever possible. She knew of an instance of a shopkeeper in Diagon Alley being accused of cheating Calliope Smith years earlier. In no time at all, the family was able to get the store shut down and the owner under investigation for illegal practices. When it was discovered there was no real basis for the charges, he was released, but his reputation was done. Last she heard he was attempting to start over on one of these less fashionable streets in Hogsmeade.

Hermione had no doubt that they would work together to achieve a common end if they so desired. Would they go so far as to actually _murder_ an innocent man and ruin the life of another innocent man by having him accused? She hated to think that anyone was that diabolical, but she had been Matthew's subordinate for eight years. Somehow she knew he would do whatever it took to get ahead.

"Pasha told me about Zacharias' late night visit," continued Reina, a sheepish expression marring her beautiful face. "I am so sorry, Hermione. That is truly embarrassing."

"It is all right." Hermione crossed the kitchen to place a reassuring hand on one of Reina's. "We were not harmed. He wasn't able to get any information about your whereabouts. It was simply an annoyance."

"If Zach and Matthew are responsible for the crime, they failed to take into account a key component to their plan."

"What is that?"

Reina smiled. She looked so much like her older brother that Hermione's heart clenched at the sight. It took every ounce of self-control she possessed to not break down in loud, blubbering sobs.

"They did not take into account that the girls and I would find such fierce protectors," she declared. "Pasha has been wonderful. I cannot believe that he has been willing to put his life on hold just to keep my family safe."

"Pasha is one of the most honorable men I've ever known," Hermione replied.

It was the absolute truth. When they met years earlier during the year of the Triwizard Tournament, he had been awkward and clumsy. Just like most seventeen year old boys really. Hermione liked him immensely from the very beginning. Viktor was his biggest champion. He knew that there were plenty of people, students from their own school included, who thought the shy, messy boy was somehow not worth their acknowledgment, but he was loyal to his best friend. He made certain that he was always included, even if Viktor might have preferred to spend a few more minutes alone with Hermione when he had the chance. When he moved to London, she enjoyed getting to know him better. She truly wished him nothing but the best and wondered if he might have found himself another champion in Reina. Certainly the woman's cheeks blushed bright red at the very mention of the wizard's name.

"And of course, we have you to thank, Hermione. Without you, I don't even want to think what might have happened that night. We would probably be back at home. Or Zacharias would be dead and that _would_ be a murder Thorfinn was responsible for."

"You don't have to thank me," Hermione insisted, her own face warming at the praise. She did not feel like she had really done anything all that spectacular. All she did was allow the woman and her children a safe place to come to in their hour of need. Isn't that what all good humans are supposed to do?

"Of course I do!" Reina exclaimed. "Did you know that the moment Finnie found us in the café, he _immediately_ said, 'I know where to go'? No hesitation whatsoever. He hugged me, kissed me. Hugged and kissed the girls. Paid the check and carried Amelia out of there. I was bloody terrified of the underground train! I didn't even know Muggles had something like that, but he wasn't. Brought us straight here. To say I was shocked when you opened the door is a bit of an understatement."

Hermione did not know how to respond to the woman's remark. She could only imagine how confused she had been to find out her former Death Eater brother was seeking out a member of the damned Golden Trio in the middle of the night for help. No doubt Reina had a thousand questions for her older brother the next morning when the excitement of the night died down. Hermione wished she could have been a fly on the wall when they talked.

"My brother is in love with you," Reina stated.

Hermione almost dropped her teacup again at the bold statement. Reina stared back at her with her cool, blue eyes just daring her to debate. She dropped her gaze back to the teacup, feeling more vulnerable in that moment than she had in many years.

"Well, I'm certainly pleased you aren't trying to argue with me about what I witnessed with my own two eyes," she continued. "I don't know how long he has felt that strongly about you, Hermione, but it is clear to me that he does. I know he has always been interested in what you were doing even back in your fourth year. He followed you in the papers when that horrible reporter was printing all of those lies about you. Used to ask me questions about you. I never thought anything about it at the time. Makes me wonder now though if he hasn't been harboring some kind of crush on you all of these years."

She actually snorted out loud at that thought. Yes, he admitted that he did what he could to keep Antonin Dolohov from killing her during the final battle, but she did not think that meant he had been nursing a schoolboy's crush on her for over ten years. The very idea was preposterous! She was so much younger than him and so very, very different. Their paths would never have crossed if they weren't fighters on the opposite sides of the same war.

"Well, regardless of how long he has had feelings for you, Hermione, it's clear that he loves you now. Why else would you be the very first person he thought of when he needed help protecting his family? He's not a man who trusts easily. For you to earn that, you must be more than just a decent shag."

Hermione's cheeks flushed yet again during the discussion with Thorfinn's sister. She did not feel comfortable discussing elements of her private life with anyone, let alone the man's relative. It was Reina's turn to snort at the state of her cheeks.

"As much as I love my brother and want to stay to support him, my priorities right now must be with my girls."

"Thorfinn understands. He told me so last night."

Reina stood up from the table. Hermione followed her example.

"I find now that I have to be the one to offer my reliance on you, Hermione. If there is anyone in this world who could get my brother cleared of those ridiculous charges, I have no doubt that it will be you."

"Thank you," Hermione whispered.

Reina kissed Hermione's cheek before pulling the shorter witch into a warm embrace.

"Thank you for helping him," she muttered. "It means the world to me."

Only minutes later Hermione stood in Pasha's living room watching the excitement. Pasha was patiently explaining to the little girls what would happen when they grasped the dented tin can in his hand. They stared at him with wide eyes as if this was the most interesting morning they had ever had. Considering their age, it was likely that it was. Both of Thorfinn's nieces gave Hermione a hug that she promised to pass on to their uncle. She had to clear her throat more than once to prevent herself from crying. Reina hugged her one final time. Pasha kissed each of her cheeks before picking up Amelia for the journey. Reina was already holding tightly on to little Lucy. Apparently neither girl was trusted to be able to complete a long distance international portkey trip without assistance. They disappeared in a flash of blue light, leaving Hermione completely alone. She choked down her tears again before raising the wards on Pasha's apartment and returning to her own.

When the chime on her mantle clock indicated that it was half-past eight, she could no longer justify remaining in her pajamas. Perhaps a hot shower was what she needed. Attempting and failing to push the memory of a steamy shower she'd shared only days before with Thorfinn from her mind, Hermione rushed through her ablutions. There was no sense in lingering under the fall of hot water when all it did was depress her further. She was still wrapped in a towel with dripping wet hair when there was yet another loud knock on her door.

"Just a minute!" she shouted across the flat hoping the unexpected visitor would hear before banging again.

She pulled on a pair of jeans that were still lying on the floor of her closet. As she ran through the living room she tugged an oversized jumper on. She certainly wasn't expecting anyone that early in the morning on a Thursday, but considering the excitement of the day before, she could only imagine what might be waiting for her on the other side of the front door.

Blaise Zabini was the absolute last person she expected to find waiting in her corridor. Though their paths had crossed a few times since they left Hogwarts, she had certainly never allowed him anywhere near her home. Knowing that he knew where to find her in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood was surprising.

"Good morning, Granger," he greeted, a hesitant smile on his still quite handsome face. "I'm sorry to drop by unannounced, but my owl was returned unopened."

"I have my flat charmed against incoming owls," she explained. "My Muggle neighbors get confused. Some of the more tenacious birds get through, but most just return or go to the Ministry."

"Well, that certainly explains it."

He was making very little sense. Hermione tried to remember what she knew about his line of work. Maybe he was a very persistent reporter wanting to know the gritty details of Thorfinn's arrest. If that were the case, she would gladly kick him out of her building. Before she allowed him inside her home, she wanted to verify his intentions.

"At the risk of sounding rude, Zabini, what do you want?"

"The Minister called in a favor I owed him."

"Kingsley? Why?"

He reached into the front pocket of his expensive robes. Hermione tensed slightly and gripped her wand tighter just in case he had any nefarious plans. What he pulled out of his pocket was a small white business card advertising himself as a private investigator. Hermione stared at the card for several moments as if everything would suddenly become clearer.

"I understand that you have a case for me," Blaise declared.

She opened the door wide enough to allow the former Slytherin into her home. They settled at the kitchen table with another fresh pot of tea and the remaining muffins Reina made. It was a bizarre meeting. For the first several minutes neither of them knew what to say. Hermione thought having tea with a former rival in her kitchen was more than a little surreal.

"I will be honest with you, Granger," Blaise said after the awkwardness grew to unbearable levels. "I have been expecting and preparing to be needed for one of the three parolees since I learned they were going to be released."

"You've been _expecting_ this?"

"Yes, afraid so. It seemed to me that it was only going to be a matter of time before one of them was charged with some bogus crime simply because they were an easy target."

She hated the bright smile that crossed her face at his words. Did this mean that she actually had someone else on her side? She was going to need all of the help she could get. If Zabini could help prevent Thorfinn from spending the rest of his life locked up in Azkaban, she would be willing to do just about anything.

"Do you think you can help him?" She was afraid to know the answer.

"I'm the best, Granger. If he didn't commit the crime, I will find the evidence."

"All right. So Kingsley actually hired you?"

"Not exactly. He can't be seen to not trust the investigation of the DMLE. I have been quietly asked to help you."

"Oh, I will be responsible for your fees if I choose to accept your expertise."

Blaise actually smirked and followed up the gesture with a wink. Hermione rolled her eyes. Money did not matter. She already promised Thorfinn she would hire him the best representation she could. If Zabini was worth what he claimed he was, she would gladly pay it. She had plenty.

"I will consider it, Zabini," she announced.

"I anticipated you would feel that way, Granger," he replied, pulling a thick folder out of his robes. "That's why I visited Rowle at the Ministry late last night. I got his statement of the events of yesterday evening. I've already begun my investigation."

She had never seen a more detailed and organized stack of notes in her entire life. Even the revision schedules she used to make for herself to prepare for final exams paled in comparison to Zabini's portfolio. If it were possible to be attracted to color coded charts and tables, she would have been declaring her intentions to the folder in that moment. He must have stayed up all night compiling his records.

"This is impressive, Zabini." It was the closest thing to a compliment she had ever given the man.

"I'm glad you approve. Now I want to hear everything that you know."

They sat at the kitchen table through two more pots of tea as she explained the events that had happened since Thorfinn was released from prison. Blaise took meticulous notes while she spoke. He seemed interested in the theory that she and Reina discussed earlier that morning about Matthew and Zacharias. His jaw clenched in anger when she described how Smith hit his wife and hexed his daughter. When she relayed in detail all of the disgusting remarks Matthew directed towards her the past few weeks, his eyes widened and his hand scribbled furiously.

"Do you know of anyone else who might hold a personal vendetta against him?"

"No, not really. I'm certain he made plenty of enemies during the war, but none have specifically come out to approach him that I know of."

"What about any ex-girlfriends? I remember him from school being something of a…"

"Man-slag?"

Blaise almost choked on his tea. Their eyes met across the table to share in a quick, quiet laugh.

"That is certainly one way to put it," he agreed. "Are you aware of any trying to contact him since he was released? He told me that he hadn't seen any."

"No, I'm not aware. That certainly may be a possibility."

"I plan to examine all scenarios. Sometimes it isn't the most obvious suspect."

He rose to his full height and began to gather his notes.

"I have a few leads I will be checking on today. Tomorrow, if you are available, I would like to take a look at Rowle's flat. There may be something there we are unaware of."

Hermione escorted her investigator to the front door. He reached out to shake her hand before she opened the door.

"I'm surprised to find out you are actually working a meaningful job, Zabini."

His soft laughter proved he was not insulted by her remark, merely amused.

"I lived the extravagant, indolent lifestyle for a few years after Hogwarts. It got old. This is much more interesting."

They made plans to meet outside Thorfinn's building the next morning. She watched her former classmate stalk down the corridor and disappear down the staircase before she closed the door again. At a complete loss at how she was going to fill the remaining hours of the day until she was allowed to visit the Ministry, she kept her hands busy by thoroughly cleaning her entire flat without magic. It had always been a cathartic way to pass the time. At least Thorfinn would no longer be able to make fun of her for her slovenly ways when he was released.

* * *

The Minister for Magic escorted her down to Level Eleven personally. She used the privacy of the lift to thank him for sending Blaise Zabini to her flat. Kingsley smiled but pretended he had no idea what she was talking about. The same guards from the night before were on duty when she entered the room that resembled a Muggle police department. Without requiring any instructions from the Minister, one of them led Hermione alone to Thorfinn's cell.

"You have thirty minutes," he informed them both before opening the door.

Thorfinn had her in his arms seconds after she entered. For the first several minutes they did nothing but hold each other. Hermione tried to unsuccessfully push down the fear that they would never be able to see each other outside the confines of his tiny cell. If she and Zabini were unable to prove his innocence…

"No more crying, Princess, please," Thorfinn begged, kissing the top of her head.

"I'm sorry."

She pushed herself carefully out his embrace to wipe at her eyes. It had not been her intention to cry in front of him again. The entire journey from her flat to his cell she repeatedly told herself to keep it together for his sake. It had only taken five minutes to fail.

"Did Reina and the girls get away all right?"

"Yes, I watched them leave this morning. Pasha was able to get a portkey on short notice."

She gave him the hugs that she promised his nieces she would deliver. It was then her turn to ask him not to cry. He used his sleeve to clear the moisture from his blue eyes with a laugh.

"I guess I can't tell you not to do something if I do it myself."

She distracted him with a sweet kiss.

"Did you talk to Zabini today?" he asked when they broke apart a few moments later.

"Yes, I did. I hired him. He made a compelling argument. His notes were fantastic."

Thorfinn snorted.

"Organization turns you on, Princess? You should see my sock drawer."

"I intend to," she replied, playfully slapping his arm. "Zabini and I are going to your flat tomorrow. If Smith broke in there he might have left some evidence."

Thirty minutes passed before either one of them were ready. The guard was kind enough to allow them one final heated goodbye snog before he cleared his throat for the fourth time and opened the door. She hated seeing him stuck behind the bars. Despite the overwhelming urge to cry, she made it to the stillness of her empty apartment before she fell apart. After a good, long cry, she found herself even more determined. All was not lost. She just had to keep reminding herself of that.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Friday

At a quarter to eight on Friday morning, Hermione was already shivering outside on the pavement in front of Thorfinn's building. She wasn't scheduled to meet Blaise Zabini there until eight, but she found she could not wait any longer inside her empty flat. That turned out to be a poor decision. Snow had been falling all night and did not seem likely to let up any time soon. Anywhere else in the country the snow might have made a pleasant scene.

The neighborhood Thorfinn was forced to live in, however, was another story. All Hermione could say about where she was standing that was positive was at least local law enforcement seemed to be close by in case of an emergency. She counted at least three police cars drive by within the first five minutes of her arrival. One even stopped to ask her if she was lost or needed assistance. It seemed to everyone else that she was severely out of her element. Despite her nerves, she assured the man she was all right, simply waiting on a friend. He begged her to be careful before he drove off.

Thorfinn's building appeared to be every bit as awful as he once claimed it to be. Hermione could only imagine what it must be like inside. More than one person stumbled out the front door clearly under the influence of a dangerous substance. A homeless man asked her for a quid before screaming that she was a term she refused to repeat and hoped to never hear again. One thing was certain as she stood out in the cold. Thorfinn was not returning to this neighborhood once he was released. She couldn't bear the thought of him sleeping in that horrible building another minute.

She had never been more thankful to see Blaise Zabini walking towards her. In the past she would have done most anything to avoid the Slytherin. In that moment she was simply grateful to see a familiar face that likely wasn't about to harm her. Before she could head up the stairs to the front door, Zabini stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"I have some bad news," he announced. "I think it best if I hurry up and get it out of the way before we head upstairs."

Hermione was more than a little nervous at his declaration. How much more bad news could she really handle? The last few days had been some of the hardest of her entire life.

"I followed up on the suspects you mentioned yesterday. I'm afraid they both have very solid alibis for the time of Towler's death."

"But how can that be?" she asked, unable to believe that neither of the men were responsible for the horrific crime.

Zabini sighed.

"I rarely saw you in school without a book in your hand, Granger. Any of those mysteries?"

"Some. Why?"

"Are you familiar with what they call a 'red herring'?"

Hermione suddenly became very annoyed with the investigator. She could not understand why he was discussing literary devices just after he had given her such awful news. Zabini could sense her frustration and took a deep breath before attempting to explain his point.

"To you, Rowle and his sister, the culprit has to be either Smith or Kettletoft. It is very obvious to you what motives they each had. To the rest of the country, Rowle makes the most obvious choice. Looks like they are all red herrings."

Zabini seemed awfully pleased with himself. Hermione found her limited patience wearing dangerously thin.

"We have to look past the obvious suspects and figure out who it really was," he continued. "That's what makes these cases so fascinating. I live for these mysteries."

"I'm so pleased you can be so happy when an innocent man's life is at stake," she spat.

"I already told you, Granger. If he didn't commit the crime, I'll uncover the evidence to prove it. This just makes it more of a challenge."

"You'll forgive me if I would prefer it to be more obvious and simpler."

Hermione still could not bring herself to believe that the Hufflepuff Smiths were not somehow involved. It did not make a single bit of logical sense. She asked him about their alibis. Maybe they weren't strong enough.

"Smith was at an awards banquet for one of his colleagues that night. Over one hundred respected Healers and their dates saw him give a speech. I checked with security working the event. He was seated on the dais from seven pm until well after nine. The murder took place about seven-fifteen and the body discovered by half past eight."

"And Kettletoft? He _never_ works late. How could he be there until after the body was discovered and _not_ be responsible?"

"He was in a private panel job interview with the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and at least three or four others from half-past six until just after eight. The interview apparently went well because he was invited to share a couple of fire whiskies afterwards."

"Fuck."

Zabini laughed at her unexpected outburst. He did not seem the type to anticipate such language out of the woman. Almost as quickly as he had been amused, he grew serious again.

"There's something else you won't like to hear. There were at least three witnesses that stated they saw a large wizard matching Rowle's description wandering around Level Four at the time of the murder."

"He works there! He was likely just mopping the floors."

"Granger, they claim he was covered in blood."

"That doesn't make any sense, Zabini! When I saw him less than an hour after he was arrested he was perfectly clean. I saw the crime scene. There is no possible way he could have committed so brutal a murder and not been covered head to toe in Kenneth's blood!"

Zabini cleared his throat. If Hermione knew anything about the man's mannerisms, she would have assumed he was reluctant to continue. She could only imagine how much worse his news could get. Already she felt like she was going to be violently ill.

"I have a contact in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They found bloody clothing in your office, Granger, and they could sense the residual magic from several cleaning spells."

"Okay, now this is just preposterous. Thorfinn can't even do magic. It's part of his parole."

"Can anyone verify your whereabouts at that time?"

She felt like she had just been hit with an ice cold aguamenti spell.

"Excuse me?"

"You told me yesterday that you were at home from six until after you got the Minister's message that Towler was dead. Can anyone positively verify you were there?"

Hermione had to stop and think seriously about his question. Part of her was very afraid to find out where he was going, but she knew it was important to answer what she could. Thorfinn's life was on the line. She thought back to the night of the murder. When she arrived home she did not see anyone on her way into the building. She specifically tiptoed past Pasha's flat because she wanted a few minutes to be by herself. The stress of the day had been overwhelming. It was clear that no one could verify where she was for that entire period of time.

"I spoke to my neighbor Pasha before I left for the Ministry."

"Did he see you come home?"

"No, no one did. Why are you asking me this?"

Zabini placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a soft reassuring squeeze.

"It looks like whoever is responsible is also trying to implicate you as an accomplice. We need to prepare ourselves for the very real possibility that you might also be arrested."

Hermione had never considered that being an option, but when she stopped to really think about what he had just told her, it made an eerie sort of sense. She and Thorfinn both had motive and opportunity that night. Half the Department witnessed Kenneth attack her. She had always been known as having a bit of a temper no matter how hard she tried to keep it under control. No doubt the vast majority of witnesses thought unkindly of her after learning she was in a romantic relationship with a former Death Eater.

"I'm not trying to scare you, Granger. I just want you to be prepared."

"Thank you."

They entered Thorfinn's building minutes later. It was every bit as awful as he described that first night at the pub. Narrow hallways made Hermione feel claustrophobic. She could only imagine how Thorfinn's broad shoulders even fit in the confined space. An odd smell she could not place lingered throughout the entire building. When they reached his flat on the third floor, Zabini unlocked the front door with a spell.

"Bit of a slob, isn't he?" he asked.

The entire flat was in major disarray. Drawers were pulled out and overturned. Papers were strewn all over the floor. His bed was unmade with the bedding half-off the mattress. Everything he owned seemed to be in the wrong place. It was apparent that this single room had been cruelly ransacked.

"Smith did this. When he came to my home in the middle of the night, he told us he'd torn Thorfinn's flat apart and then threatened to do the same to mine."

"What was he looking for?"

"I'm not sure exactly. Some clue as to where Thorfinn would take his sister and nieces? I have no idea. Smith was intoxicated and out of his mind."

An attractive young woman knocked on the open front door and stepped in. She seemed strangely out of place in such a rundown building. Hermione wondered if this was the famous Natalie she had heard Thorfinn describe.

"Is there something I can help you with?" she demanded, her eyes travelling between the two intruders.

"We're just here picking up a few things for Thorfinn," Zabini replied.

The woman narrowed her eyes.

"Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, love. How rude of me. I'm Blaise and this is my stepsister Hermione."

Her entire countenance changed at the explanation. A bright smile crossed her face.

"Hermione? I should have known. You look exactly like Thor described you. I'm his neighbor Natalie. I was coming downstairs when I saw you two enter. I thought you might be that horrible woman again."

"What woman?" Zabini asked.

Natalie blushed at the question and could not meet their eyes.

"Oh, maybe I shouldn't have said anything."

"It's all right," Hermione assured the woman. "I was the one who kicked Thorfinn out. He doesn't owe me an explanation."

"Well, if it helps, I don't think it was _that_ kind of relationship. Thor was never happy to see her the couple of times I saw her. He was quite vocal about never wanting to see her again. At first I thought she was you, but he told me later it was just some slag he never wanted to see again."

"Do you remember her name?"

"No, never knew it. Only saw her a couple of times."

Zabini stepped in front of Natalie and looked her in the eye. Almost immediately she had an odd expression across her features. Hermione was confused by the exchange. Neither of them said a word. After a few moments, he smiled.

"Thank you, love. We will be out of here in a few minutes."

Natalie wandered out of the flat appearing dazed.

"What did you do to her, Zabini?"

"Just tried to get a picture of the woman she was talking about. She never got a decent look. Just saw her from behind. Her hair was tucked in the back of her coat and the light was too dim to even see what color it was."

Hermione realized that the wizard had just been using Legilimency on the unsuspecting Muggle. Based on the confused way she left the flat, he probably followed it up with a memory charm. Using magic on Muggles like that was highly illegal. She wondered just what kind of private investigator she had hired.

"You realize that's illegal, don't you?" she asked.

"It's only illegal if you get caught. I'm more concerned about the fact that Rowle didn't tell me about an irate woman coming to his flat to yell at him at least twice. He specifically told me that no old girlfriends have tried to contact him since he was paroled."

"Maybe it was just someone who _wanted_ to be his girlfriend."

Zabini stared at her for a moment as if he was considering her words closely. He nodded his head.

"You might be right. I don't think we can learn anymore here. We might come back later. Let's find some breakfast. I'm starving."

There was a dingy Muggle café not far from the building. Hermione was a little skeptical about the quality of food that could be purchased in such an establishment, but Zabini was happy to order a large breakfast. She was content with some toast and a cup of tea. Food poisoning was not high on her list of experiences she really was prepared to deal with at this point in her life.

"So how do we explain the man who looks like Thorfinn wandering around with bloody clothes?" she asked just after the food arrived.

"I have a couple of theories about that. I'm not sure either will be of any comfort to you."

"What are you they?"

"Polyjuice potion or the Imperius Curse."

Her stomach began to churn furiously. She nibbled on her dry toast in an effort to calm the chaos within. No, neither of those options was very comforting. They were both damn near impossible to prove. Too many Death Eaters had been able to avoid Azkaban after the first Wizarding War by claiming they were under the influence of the Unforgivable Curse. It was enough to make all future claims of its use questioned.

"Polyjuice isn't easily accessible," Hermione said, thinking about the options out loud. "I mean, it's not something you can just go out and buy. It takes time to brew. He hasn't even been out of Azkaban long enough for someone to brew it."

"There are a few apothecaries who sell it premade. It's not advertised, of course."

"Shady apothecaries?"

Zabini laughed.

"Most definitely. I have contacts that are checking their sale records. If anyone bought the potion in the last month, I will have a list of names by tomorrow."

"What if they brewed it themselves?"

It was farfetched, but she had to examine every option. The wizard scoffed at her question.

"You always did well in Potions. It takes twenty-one days to stew the lacewing flies. Rowle was only out of Azkaban for seventeen days at the time of the murder. They would've had to start brewing four days before he was released."

"Maybe they knew he was being paroled before he actually was?"

Zabini pushed his runny eggs across his plate as he thought her suggestion over.

"I suppose it is possible. My contact in the DMLE says there is someone within the Ministry passing classified information out to the press. They've been unable to pin down who it might be. It's possible it might be the same person. I will expand my search to anyone who might have purchased boomslang skin in the past three months. It's a much rarer ingredient after all. Much more likely to set off some alarms."

"What about your other theory?"

"All magic leaves a trace. If Rowle was ever placed under the Imperius Curse, I'll be able to tell. I can always use Legilimency on him. Honestly, if the DMLE was worth its salt, it would've already done so. You are able to visit him at six this evening?"

She nodded her head.

"Then I hope you won't mind if I tag along. Not to worry. I'll turn my head when you need a private moment."

Zabini winked at her and then laughed at her disgusted reaction. She rolled her eyes. He was still chuckling to himself when he stood up from the booth to drop some Muggle money on the table.

"I can pay for breakfast," she offered.

"Don't worry, Granger. It will be added to your final bill. I will meet you at the Employee Entrance of the Ministry this evening at six."

She watched the self-assured wizard walk out of the café. When he was no longer in her view, she sipped the last bit of tea from her cup and rose to her feet. There were still quite a few hours that she had to fill that day before she could see Thorfinn again. Without work to keep her mind occupied, she was not sure what to do with herself. Deciding that there was a ransacked flat not far from her that needed cleaning before its occupant returned, she headed towards Thorfinn's building. If all of his belongings somehow ended up packed neatly in boxes ready to move to another flat across the city, well, it was one fewer task they would have to worry about when he was ready to come home.

* * *

Blaise was the one waiting for her this time when she arrived at the Ministry of Magic. The time was just a minute or two before six. Her day passed swiftly cleaning up Smith's mess. The very expensive private investigator did not seem to mind her almost tardiness. No doubt he was tacking on a few more minutes to her final bill. Hermione refused to think too closely on what the tally would ultimately be. If she could keep an innocent man out of prison it would be money well spent.

They went straight to Kingsley's office once inside. Several of the departing workers stopped to stare at Hermione, but by then, she was used to it. Let them stare. She was not ashamed of any of the choices she made in life. Well, except for that night in the middle of sixth year that she allowed Cormac McLaggen to feel her up in a broom cupboard when she was feeling sad about Ron and Lavender's relationship. That was a night she would regret until she died. Especially considering there had been a repeat of the night years after Hogwarts that went a little bit further than she was willing to contemplate in that particular moment.

"Good evening, Gemma," Blaise greeted the witch seated in front of the Minister's office.

Gemma Farley actually blushed when she saw Zabini. Hermione wanted to laugh in her face. Wasn't she a little old to be acting like a love-struck school girl? It was pathetic.

"Is the Minister expecting you, Blaise?"

"No, but he's expecting my client."

Gemma turned up her nose at Hermione. She waved them both into the office. Kingsley was finishing up a report. Upon their arrival he dropped the parchment and rose from his desk. A kiss on her cheek and an inquiry about her state of mind later, they were all three in the lift headed towards Level Eleven. Hermione took the opportunity to tease her former schoolmate in the privacy of the lift.

"I've never seen Farley act so _pleasant_ before."

Blaise and Kingsley both laughed at her remark. Certainly the Minister would know his secretary's moods better than most people she came into contact with.

"I tend to have that effect on women," Zabini retorted with a wink.

Down in Level Eleven's high security cells, Thorfinn was pacing his temporary home. Even at a distance Hermione could sense his agitation. The moment he saw her coming towards him, he stopped his movements.

"You're late," he gently chastised when she was close enough he would not have to shout. "I got worried."

The guard allowed her in to the cell just like the previous few nights. Kingsley remained in the main section of the Level near the guards' desks. Blaise kept a respectful distance from the bars while they shared a private, enthusiastic greeting. Thorfinn could not have cared less if there had been an audience of a thousand. He did not waste a single second kissing her hello.

"You bring another friend, Princess?" Thorfinn asked, pointing towards Zabini.

"I'm sorry. We had some questions for you."

Hermione spent the first few minutes of their visit going over everything they had learned so far. Just like she had been, he was visibly disappointed to learn that their prime suspects had strong alibis. She explained the theories that Blaise had about how the crime was committed and how it seemed that he was the one to do it. She was hesitant to tell him that there was a possibility that she could be arrested as an accomplice. At the last second she decided not to keep the truth from him. It wouldn't be fair. He clenched his fists at the news. She also mentioned what Natalie told them about the angry woman who came to his flat twice. Thorfinn was discernibly confused by the last part.

"I don't understand, Princess. I wasn't lying to Zabini the other night when I told him no one has been to my flat. Nat must have been confused."

Hermione looked down the corridor to make certain that neither of the guards nor Kingsley was within earshot.

"Zabini used Legilimency on her. He saw a woman standing in front of your flat yelling at you."

"I'm telling you that that's not possible," he said through clenched teeth. "I'm not a liar!"

Blaise stepped up to the cell for the first time since they arrived. His wand was out.

"Do you mind if I try something? It won't hurt."

Thorfinn was still agitated by the implication that he had been lying. Hermione made a note to herself to never question his integrity again without good reason. She hated seeing him so upset knowing it was partially her fault. After a few moments of contemplation, Thorfinn relented. Blaise stared in his eyes and attempted Legilimency. Hermione could hardly breathe for the couple of minutes that the wizard examined his private memories. Finally, Zabini stepped back from Thorfinn, breaking the connection.

"Sorry, saw more than I intended," he muttered, his cheeks flushing.

Zabini's eyes cut to Hermione for a brief second. She blushed. There was no telling what he might have just seen inside of Thorfinn's sometimes depraved mind. Based on Thorfinn's amused chuckles, she knew it was something she would have preferred to keep private.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, but I would prefer if you kept your brain out of our bedroom, Zabini," he teased.

Blaise cleared his throat before speaking.

"Yes, well, I did find what I was looking for. You've been obliviated, Rowle. I don't know when or by whom, but it's easy to tell if you know what to look for."

"Can you reverse it?" asked Thorfinn. He seemed bothered by the thought of someone messing with his memories.

"I'm not skilled enough to trust myself to do it."

There was something that was bothering Hermione. Well, _something_ else.

"How is this even possible? Any magic used against him will set off an alarm and aurors show up. Charlie Weasley was arrested just for using a stinging hex. I imagine Obliviate would be much worse."

Zabini shrugged his shoulders, obviously at a loss to explain it as well.

"Another piece of the mystery. My guess would be someone with some power in the DMLE is involved."

All of the frustration Hermione had been feeling since that day started began to build up inside of her. She desperately wanted to cry to allow some form of outlet, but she told herself she would be strong for Thorfinn. He did not need to see her tears anymore. When he was safely outside of prison and free to live his life without fear, she would cry whenever she damn well wanted to. It was her right as a woman after all! Until that moment, she would keep them to herself.

"I think I have all I need for right now," Zabini announced. "I'm going to follow up on the polyjuice lead. I will be in touch."

His determined steps echoed down the corridor. When they were alone, Thorfinn stared down at his witch with a furrowed brow. His concern and fears were etched all over his face. He was worried and needed physical confirmation that for that moment at least, Hermione was safe. She was pulled against his chest by his strong arms.

"I've got a really bad feeling, Princess. This all seems much more complicated and dangerous than I originally thought."

"I'm all right, Thorfinn."

"I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you."

Hermione placed both of her hands on his cheeks to force his eyes to meet hers.

"I refuse to let you spend the rest of your life in prison for something you did not do just because it's safer for me. This might be difficult for your Slytherin brain to wrap around, darling, but I'm a Gryffindor."

Thorfinn's chuckles broke the tension that was threatening to overpower the tiny enclosure. She followed his lead with laughter of her own.

"Please be careful."

Several minutes later she was back in the lift with Kingsley already counting down the minutes until she could see him again. Thirty minutes a day would never be enough. Hermione forced herself not to dwell on the possibility that thirty minutes a day could turn in to twenty minutes once a month if this did not all go the way it should. The threat of Azkaban was always present.

She did not feel like lingering long inside the building. Once she said her goodbyes to Kingsley, she headed back out the Employee Entrance. When she reached twenty feet outside the door, she turned in place in an attempt to Apparate home. Nothing happened. After clearing her mind and making another attempt, she decided that maybe the anti-Apparition wards had been lengthened following the murder. Perhaps the Ministry was stepping up its security in wake of the tragedy. She tried to make a step forward, but was stopped by the sensation of a very pointy wand stuck in her lower back.

"You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you, Granger?"

Hermione could not recognize the voice. It seemed too deep to be a woman's voice, but almost too high to be a man's. She knew of multiple spells that could be employed to disguise one's voice. Their incantations flashed through her mind as a sharp pain began to climb up and down every single nerve ending from the point the wand was pushed into. She lost all feeling in her limbs within seconds. As she watched the snow covered pavement grow closer and closer to her face, she hated that she had not been able to keep Thorfinn's promise to be careful. She was unconscious before she felt the impact.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Saturday

Hermione could hear voices the moment she realized she was regaining consciousness. Unable to open her eyes because they felt like they were glued shut, she tried to calm her breathing enough to figure out what was going on around her. A growing fear in the back of her mind was that if she stopped to actually dwell on the fact that she could not move a single limb or twitch her eyes, she might actually hyperventilate in a panic. While she would never consider herself a claustrophobic, there was certainly something about being stuck inside her own body that brought a terror upon her that nothing else did.

There were at least two men in the same room with her based on the voices that were engaged in a hushed conversation. Either they were far away from her or they were making a concerted effort to keep their voices down for her benefit. Neither option instilled any amount of reassurance or self-confidence in her. She tried to push the thought from her mind that the last time she felt so out of control of her own body was in the midst of and immediately following her torture session at Malfoy Manor at the hands of the sadistic bitch Bellatrix Lestrange. Ordinarily she was able to distance her thoughts from the horrible woman that had been dead for almost ten solid years. Nightmares were few and far between, but when they struck, she felt _almost_ as paralyzed as she actually felt in that moment.

"Took your sweet time getting here, didn't you?" hissed the first man's voice. He spoke with a soft Scottish accent. Somewhere in the Northeastern part if her study of accents from when she was a child was still accurate.

"I'm sorry. Still learning how the trains and buses work," replied the second man, his Yorkshire accent thick and heavy. "Had to have a Muggle help me figure out what train I had to take and when I got off. Bloody Muggle money is confusing too. She was kind though."

Hermione could not have identified either of the men in the same room. She tried to calm her breathing and focus on anything that she could use to figure out just what in the hell was going on.

"I didn't know how to get _here_ though," Yorkshire continued. "Knew how to get to the Leaky Cauldron. The witch behind the bar called the Knight Bus for me. Didn't want to help me, but also didn't want me to linger too long inside. I'm sure she recognized me."

He sighed an almost self-deprecating sigh. Hermione assumed he was talking about Hannah, but that knowledge did not give her any indication where she was. All she knew was that this stranger was obviously someone Hannah Longbottom had no desire to see again. A small hope that maybe Hannah would report a nefarious character in her pub seeking assistance in summoning the Knight Bus would get some kind of investigation. The bus driver would know where he dropped the man off. She knew she was grasping at straws, but it was the only thing she could think to do to keep a check on her sanity.

"I was already here when they brought her in," declared the Scottish man.

"Do you know what all happened?"

"No, I don't. Just the basics. Owled you as soon as I found out. _They_ don't want to tell me anything else. I doubt they trust you any more than they trust me."

Bits and pieces of her attack in front of the Ministry started to come back to Hermione. She could remember someone poking their wand in her back and hissing some kind of warning statement that had slipped her exhausted brain. Nothing else. The longer she was awake, the more feeling started to come back. She could feel a slight tingling in her toes and the tips of her fingers. It was gradual. At that point it would likely take days before she could regain full use of all of her limbs. By then there was simply no telling what her life would be like. It would all depend on who it was that held her captive.

The men continued to speak around her, but nothing made any sense. She wished desperately that she could at least open her eyes. Maybe she would recognize who it was that wanted to hurt her so badly. Maybe these men were the key to figuring out the horrible mystery that had been plaguing their lives the last few days.

"Penny wasn't too happy when I told her I was staying longer, but she understood," announced Mr. Scottish Accent. "Especially when I told her the same would be done for her if the roles were different."

"Damned bad luck, but I'm not surprised. We all knew something like this was going to happen. Don't know why the witch had to be involved."

"We planned for this, remember? We assumed that they would be going after our weaknesses. Going after the ones we loved. Of course _she_ was a bit of a surprise."

Both men chuckled at the comment. Hermione did not understand. They may as well have been speaking in Mandarin Chinese for all of the sense they were making. With every ounce of strength she had left in her body, she forced her eyes to open. She expected it to take multiple tries, but after just a few moments, her eyelids opened. It took a while for her eyes to adjust after being in the darkness for so long. The room where she was being held was very dim. A few soft lights were on the opposite wall from her head. She still had no idea where she was.

Yorkshire was quietly talking to his comrade as he paced the room. He stepped straight into Hermione's line of sight within moments of her eyes finally adjusting. She recognized him from his trial photos. They might have been taken ten years earlier, but Hermione was certain she still recognized Amycus Carrow when he stood a meter away from her feet. He was older, of course, and had several days of heavy stubble covering his face. Why there was a former Death Eater holding her hostage was beyond her understanding.

She was frightened like she had not been frightened since the war ended. Nothing made any sense. All she knew was that she had to use what limited strength she had to get as far away from the dangerous criminal as possible. Sheer determination allowed her to struggle into an almost seated position. The clumsy movements she made quickly caught the attention of both men.

"Whoa there, Miss Granger," Scotland said, rushing to the bed. "You need to lie back down."

The last time she was positively certain she saw Yaxley was the day she and the boys infiltrated the Ministry to steal the locket horcrux. It was her fault that they compromised the former Order Headquarters. The man with the soft Scottish voice who was tenderly pushing down on her shoulders had grabbed her at the last second as she tried to Disapparate. Knowing what a dangerous man he was only made Hermione's fear spike to unhealthy levels. She was certain that she was about to be murdered or tortured or raped or a terrifying combination of all three.

"If you hurt yourself, Rowle will break out of the Ministry just to kill us," Yaxley gently chastised.

His words only served to confuse her even further. What in Merlin's name did Thorfinn have to do with her attack and kidnapping? If he could break out of the Ministry holding cells to come after the men who attacked her, he would have already been there and they would already be dead. Nothing made any sense. She tried to speak, but her body was still not cooperating. It took her several tries before a series of scratchy words came out of her mouth.

"Where am I?"

"St. Mungo's," answered Yaxley. "Spell Damage ward."

Surprised by his admission, Hermione scanned the room again. As her eyes adjusted even further, she could see that he was telling the truth. At the very least, it certainly _looked_ like a hospital room. When she forced a deep breath down her throat, she caught a very distinctive whiff of potions and industrial strength cleaner. Muffled shouts from outside in the corridor from a harried Healer running past the door only further confirmed he was telling the truth. Thorfinn never told her who the other two parolees were, but it was clear that she was staring at them both. They, in turn, were staring back at her with matching expressions of concern on their very different faces. Hermione did not understand why either of them was even there.

"What happened?" she asked, the hoarseness of her voice unfamiliar and harsh on her sensitive ears.

"You were almost killed. If Shacklebolt hadn't come out of the building when he did, you likely would be dead," answered Yaxley.

"Kingsley?"

He nodded his head once.

"He came outside just as you were cursed. Tried to apprehend your attacker, but when he realized what curse you were under, he let them go to save you. You're lucky he knew the counter-curse. Nasty curse."

Hermione bit her tongue to prevent blurting out the uncharitable remark that he would know all about nasty curses. Despite the limited explanation of the events just after she lost consciousness, she still did not comprehend why the two Death Eaters were waiting for her in her room when she woke up. Yaxley narrowed his eyes as if he could almost read her confusion.

"I'm afraid Amycus and I are to be your bodyguards for the time being."

"Excuse me? I don't understand."

Her eyes sought out the younger of the two wizards. Carrow simply shrugged his shoulders. He was not much of a talker. She seemed to remember hearing that he could be quite shy around strangers. Or at least ones who had the ability to curse him back unlike the children he tormented the last year of the war as the Deputy Headmaster and Professor of Dark Arts. Yaxley was quick to speak for the both of them.

"We were both paroled with Rowle. All three of us knew there was a high chance that we would meet with some opposition at our release. We made a vow, unbinding, non-magical, of course…" He raised his left arm to show off the same silver ring she'd seen around Thorfinn's wrist. "But still valid. We vowed that we would come to each other's aid. If it was my Penny in your bed and me locked up, Rowle would be standing right where I am. Or if you were one of Amycus' nieces and he was in trouble."

"I don't mean to seem ungrateful, but what is it that you can actually do for me without…"

She shut her mouth quickly afraid that she had insulted both men. Thorfinn had been absolutely humiliated the day in her flat when Harry kept referring to him as a squib. These men were likely no different in their ability to feel hurt pride in their reduced circumstances. To her great surprise, both men simply laughed.

"All we can really do is throw ourselves between you and any spell someone might hit you with," Amycus clarified.

"Why would you do that?"

"Like Yax said earlier, Thorfinn promised he would do the same for our loved ones. As long as we have these rings binding our magic, any spell used against us would alert the aurors. They would arrive in seconds."

Her mind went back to the previous Sunday afternoon when there was so much excitement in her home. Aurors arrived within moments after Charlie hexed Thorfinn. While she could certainly see the sense and the logic in their plans, she was still quite nervous to be alone with the men. She only knew them as terrifying, dangerous followers of the Dark Lord. Even with Thorfinn she at least had some interactions with him before he was Marked and on a mission to murder her.

"Unless your attacker is an auror, we would have aurors here to deal with any threats," added Yaxley.

"Wait, what did you say about aurors? Unless my attacker was one?"

"Aurors can use magic on us without an alarm going off. Wouldn't make a lot of sense to set off an alarm to the rest of the aurors if they were trying to take one of us in custody."

"Do you think that applies to all spells?"

She had a theory and desperately hoped she was wrong. Yaxley seemed to consider her question for several moments before shrugging his shoulders.

"Probably. Why?"

"Do you think an auror could get away with obliviating one of you?"

Both men exchanged suspicious looks at the odd question. Hermione wished she had not said anything, but as it often had before in her life, her curiosity got the better of her. She did not know these men. They claimed they were only there to protect her in their limited capacity as a promise to Thorfinn, but she did not actually _know_ that was the truth.

"Probably, but I could not say for certain," Yaxley said. "We didn't use these kinds of methods for Azkaban parolees when I was in the DMLE. Do you suspect Rowle might have been obliviated? Do you think that's why you were attacked?"

Hermione could have cursed herself for her blunt question. She had forgotten that Yaxley was once the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement during that horrible year the Ministry was under Voldemort's control. Before then he had many years of experience dealing with criminal investigations. She wished Blaise was there. They would need to explore the frightening possibility that an auror was involved somehow.

"Just curious," she lied.

Neither of the men was convinced. She tried to distract herself by staring at the clock on the wall. It was just after one in the morning. She was unconscious for several hours. It had been just after half past six when she stepped out of the Ministry. She wondered if Kingsley had been able to find out who attacked her in the hours since she was brought to the hospital.

"You should get some more sleep, Miss Granger," Amycus suggested. "As long as you are in the hospital at least one of us will be here with you."

Hermione found a strange sort of comfort in that knowledge. While she was afraid of them at first, she was also afraid of Thorfinn just a short time earlier. If he trusted his former comrades to keep her safe, she would trust them too. Hadn't she been angry and frustrated that everyone else was treating her wizard so poorly because of his past? She chose to trust them. Her life lately had been bizarre enough. What was two more Death Eaters acting as her bodyguards? She drifted off minutes later into a fitful sleep.

* * *

She woke up to the sound of loud arguing in her hospital room. While she slept the sun had risen in the sky, washing the entire room in bright, yellow light through the uncovered window. Hermione carefully opened her eyes to find Harry and Kingsley standing in the doorway. While the Minister seemed unruffled by the unusual visitors in her room, Harry was very upset.

"She doesn't need the two of you loitering in her hospital room!"

"We're here to make sure whoever cursed her doesn't come back to finish the job they started," Yaxley retorted. "I notice you haven't stationed anyone outside her hospital room. That used to be standard procedure when we had a violent attack like hers. Especially when a known illegal curse was used!"

"I don't need a _Death Eater_ telling me how to do my job, Yaxley."

Kingsley caught Hermione's eye in the middle of the heated argument. His face split into a wide grin when he realized she was awake. Not even caring that the two men were quickly moving their bodies closer to each other, Kingsley walked right through them. He settled himself on the edge of Hermione's bed and took her right hand in both of his large hands.

"How are you feeling this morning, love?" he asked, continuing to ignore the hisses and scoffs behind him as they argued on the best way to handle a criminal investigation.

"I'm okay, I suppose. Thank you for saving me."

Kingsley smiled at her thanks, but Hermione could see that his eyes were tearing up.

"You need never thank me for that," he answered in an emotion-filled whisper. "Your Healer believes you will be ready to go home this afternoon. There's not much else they can do for you that can't be done in your own home. You will likely be very tired for a few days, but there shouldn't be any lasting damage. I'm so glad I got there when I did."

"Do you know who did this?"

The Minister shook his head. Harry and Yaxley chose that moment to stop their argument to listen to his next words. Amycus stood at the foot of her bed taking in every word. He was taking his role as her bodyguard seriously.

"I'm afraid not," Kingsley continued. "They were too quick and I had to make you my priority."

"Thorfinn told me to be careful, but I didn't even pay attention."

She had not really allowed herself to think about her wizard until that moment. If he knew what had happened to her, he must have been terrified. She wondered if anyone even thought about him after she was attacked. Would Kingsley or Harry have made certain that he was aware that she was in the hospital? Or would they have simply sent him a message saying she was attacked but not let him know that she was going to survive? Unfortunately, she knew just how insensitive men could be without realizing it.

"When you got to St. Mungo's and I knew you were going to be all right, I paid Mr. Rowle a visit. He is understandably very worried about you. He begged me repeatedly to take him back to Azkaban."

Hermione was shocked by his remark. She could not understand why Thorfinn would be insistent that he be taken back to the wizard prison. Returning to Azkaban was his greatest fear. She knew that he had nightmares about the place even without the dementors as guards.

"He has some foolish notion that if he was back in Azkaban, whoever was trying to frame him would be satisfied enough to leave you alone."

She burst into loud sobs at the explanation. Kingsley wasted no time wrapping his arms around her shaking frame to provide what comfort he could. As much as she loved Kingsley and appreciated his effort, he was not the wizard she wanted to be with in that moment. She was desperate to get out of bed and go straight to the Ministry, but she was certain no one would allow her to see Thorfinn in her current state. They would likely prattle off some nonsense about her needing to take care of herself first.

"'Mione, I want you to come home with me," Harry announced. "Ginny and I can keep you protected."

Hermione could not imagine a worse idea than settling into Number Twelve Grimmauld Place with the former Miss Weasley as the Lady of the House. They had not spoken since the Sunday she and Angelina confronted her about her date with Kenneth. She could only imagine how Ginny would act around her knowing that she had essentially spurned her older brother for a former Death Eater. Other than a couple of notes from Molly and Ron and a few terse conversations with Charlie at the Ministry, she had not spoken to any of the Weasleys about her involvement with Thorfinn when it was revealed in the newspaper. She did not have to be a gifted Seer to know that Ginny would not be kind.

"I don't think so, Harry," she answered. "Thank you, but I really want to go home to my flat."

"Please be reasonable, Hermione. You can't be alone," Harry insisted.

"She won't be alone."

All eyes in the room turned to stare at the quiet voice that had uttered the promise. Amycus seemed uncomfortable under so much scrutiny, but once he met Hermione's eyes, he stood up straighter.

"I promised Thorfinn that I would protect his loved ones if anything happened to him," he declared. "At the time we all assumed that would be his younger sister or his nieces, but I intend to still honor that promise."

"You can't be serious, Carrow! 'Mione would not let you anywhere near her home. That is the most ridiculous statement I think I have ever heard."

Amycus ignored everyone else in the room to focus completely on Hermione. Harry's continued commentary was nothing but annoying background chatter.

"I work for a Muggle at a Muggle care home in Kent," he explained. "When I told her there had been an accident and I had to come to the city to visit a family member, she told me to take all of the time off I needed. I'm hoping that we can get all of this misunderstanding with Thorfinn cleared up quickly so he can come home and protect you himself, but until he can, I promised him."

Amycus stepped closer to the bed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded letter. Thrusting it into Hermione's hand, he stepped back a few feet while she read.

 _Amy,_

 _You probably won't be surprised to read I'm being charged with murder. Complete utter bollocks, of course. Got a pretty witch determined to get me cleared of all charges. I'm worried something's going to happen to her. You're going to laugh when you read this, but it's Hermione Granger. Yes,_ _that_ _Granger. Promise me you and Yax will protect her? She is_ _everything_ _to me._

 _Thorfinn_

Hermione wiped her face with Kingsley's handkerchief while he examined the same letter. Harry ripped it out of his hands when he was finished. The Chosen One was visibly disgruntled by the words in the short missive. He tried to argue once more that allowing the parolees anywhere near his best friend was insanity. Both Hermione and Kingsley cut off his rant with raised hands.

"I'm coming to your flat to boost your wards," Kingsley declared, raising a single eyebrow in a challenge to see if the witch would argue. When she didn't, he continued. "I won't lie and say that I am one hundred percent comfortable with this idea, but you are an adult, love. I am not your father. Harry for damn sure is not your father. It's your decision, but I know that Ryan would love an opportunity to have you over for a nice, long visit if you would prefer."

"Thank you, Kingsley."

She wasn't entirely comfortable with the thought of a complete stranger who was once one of Lord Voldemort's most trusted minions coming to sleep on her living room sofa. It was enough to make her burst out in crazed, hysterical laughter. She trusted Thorfinn. There was no doubt in her mind that he would never willingly put her into any kind of danger. Did he not prove that when he begged Kingsley to throw him back in prison just to keep her safe? They would certainly be having a nice, long chinwag about that particular offer the next time she found herself in his presence. She knew that if he trusted Amycus Carrow and Yaxley, uhh, Whatever-His-First-Name-Was, to keep her protected, she should trust him too. Did he not recently put an extraordinary amount of trust in her when he allowed a complete stranger to take his sister and nieces to another country? Did he not deserve the same courtesy?

"I want to sleep in my own bed," she announced to the four men in the room. "I am choosing to trust Thorfinn. My couch isn't very comfortable, I'm afraid."

Amycus smiled slightly, his cheeks blushing pink.

"It's all right. Anything better than Azkaban will feel like a palace."

"'Mione, you cannot be serious! Rowle was bad enough. You can't just start adopting Death Eaters like stray dogs!"

When she finally convinced Harry that nothing he said would change her mind, he stormed out of the hospital room. As a parting shot, he announced that he would be stationing an auror outside her flat at all times until her attacker was caught. He practically yelled in Yaxley's smirking face that the first auror guard would be waiting for her at her flat when she was released from the hospital.

"Has the boy always been so dramatic?" Yaxley asked, failing miserably at keeping his laughter under control.

With the vast influence afforded him as the Minister for Magic, Kingsley was able to get Hermione released from St. Mungo's before lunchtime. Yaxley promised he would be by her flat to relieve Amycus when his shifts at the hospital and his demanding wife allowed. She carefully explained which trains he would have to take to get to her flat on the Muggle underground. He teased her before she was finished that it would just be easier if he could grab hold of her sleeve and have her Apparate him there instead. Their private joke did not make sense to the other two men, but they enjoyed several deep chuckles at their shared memory.

The question Hermione had for Thorfinn that first night in the pub was answered when she successfully Side-Along Apparated Amycus to the alley behind her building. Kingsley was already waiting for them, half-convinced she would splinch herself in her weakened state. Pleasantly surprised to see her all in one piece, Kingsley followed them into the predominantly Muggle building. Only the nosy Mrs. Williams on the ground floor saw them enter. She glared at the two strange men following the young witch up the stairs. Hermione was almost ninety-five percent positive that the crotchety old woman was the one who was always calling the police.

Standing just outside the door to her flat was one of the aurors that responded to Charlie's attack on Thorfinn the Sunday before. He was the one who led the group that she recognized but whose name escaped her. Kingsley nodded in his direction.

"Good afternoon, Dawlish."

"Minister."

The auror's light gray eyes lingered on Amycus for longer than Hermione was comfortable with. No doubt he was trying to figure out why there was a known Death Eater entering her flat. She felt a pang of sympathy for the man. This must have been exactly what he experienced every time he ran into a witch or wizard who recognized him from his seedy past. She was grateful when Kingsley finished adding his own special protection wards and they could all go inside away from Dawlish's gaze.

"I'm headed to the Ministry for a short time," Kingsley announced. "I'll make certain I make a visit to Level Eleven when I arrive."

Her dear friend kissed the top of her head and asked her one final time if she wanted to come stay in their guest room. When she said 'no', he smiled and walked out.

Being alone with Amycus Carrow for the first time was a bit disconcerting. Hermione was feeling exhausted from her Apparition and from the walking she had done since she climbed out of her hospital bed. After giving her new, bizarre houseguest the tour of the small flat, she summoned extra linens from her cupboard.

"Do you know how the TV works?" she asked when he picked up the remote.

"Yes, thank you. I'm learning all about Muggles," he replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

She left him alone on her living room sofa watching one of those horrid twenty-four hour news stations she could never bear to watch. He, however, seemed perfectly pleased with the arrangement. Hermione resisted the urge to lock her bedroom door with a spell when she closed it. She did, however, slip her wand underneath her pillow. She might be doing her hardest to trust Thorfinn, but she was not an idiot.


	18. Chapter 18

_Author's Note: I recently created a Tumblr account. While I am still learning what the heck it's used for at times, I will be using my account to post previews and sneak peeks to my stories. My goal is to post a quote, a small conversation and a short preview for each upcoming chapter. Please feel free to follow me if you're interested. (I also may or may not be posting photos of attractive men.) My Tumblr is under_ _ **Canimallow**_ _._

* * *

Chapter Eighteen

Hermione assumed it was still Saturday when she reopened her eyes in the darkness of her bedroom. At the very least the sun was missing. Her clock showed the time to be just after nine. She did not _think_ she had been asleep for over twenty-four hours, but stranger things had definitely happened. Especially to her. Especially lately.

A low hum from the living room proved that the television was still on just outside her bedroom door. No other sounds were present. She was still having a difficult time grasping the fact that Amycus Carrow was in her home just hanging out on her couch. There were times when she did not feel like her life was actually her life. Maybe she was in the middle of some vivid dream that made no sense at all. Soon she would wake up to go back to living a solitary existence in her empty flat, hating every moment she spent at the Ministry.

Every muscle in her body felt weak and sore. It actually took her several tries to even get out of bed. She bit down on her bottom lip in an effort to keep from crying yet again since this waking nightmare began. Too many tears had been spilled already. Thorfinn did not need her sobs. He needed her brains and her courage and the unwavering faith she had in the man that he did not commit such a heinous crime.

She practically dragged herself to the bathroom. After a rapid shower she returned to her bedroom to dress in a pair of clean, modest blue pajamas. They were really her worst pair. She usually enjoyed just sleeping a light nightgown and her knickers, but she wasn't about to parade around her flat in such limited attire with Carrow as a guest. Ignoring the fact that they were rather itchy, she pushed open the door to the living room.

Amycus was completely engrossed in some action movie. His eyes hardly blinked as he took in the dangerous car chases. Hermione rolled her own eyes at the sight. Ron and Charlie always wanted to watch the same kind of movie when they had the opportunity. She assumed that all men were exactly the same. Imagining what his older sister would think if she could see him enjoying such blatant Muggle entertainment, Hermione snorted. Amycus looked up at the sound.

"Where did you find those?" Hermione, asked, pointing to the bag of crisps he was holding.

"In the back of one of your cupboards. I hope you don't mind."

His cheeks were lightly blushed and he seemed embarrassed. Hermione waved off his concern.

"No, it's all right. I told you to make yourself at home. I just can't remember the last time I bought crisps. Those must be terribly stale."

Amycus shrugged his shoulders and kept right on eating.

"I was hungry. Honestly after ten years of prison food in Azkaban, stale crisps are really not bad."

"That is a terrible scale to judge food on. I really must do some shopping, but we can have some food delivered."

She crossed the living room to pick up her phone. Amycus furrowed his brow at her words.

"How do you have food delivered?" he asked.

"Just call a restaurant, tell them what you want and one of their employees brings it to you."

Hermione had no idea what a former Pureblood fanatic would like to eat from a Muggle restaurant but there were several options available in her neighborhood.

"There are people whose sole job is to bring food to your home when you're hungry? Are they like house elves?"

"No, they just deliver pizza."

"Brilliant."

She suppressed a laugh at the eagerness and curiosity on the man's face. As she dialed her phone and placed an order for pizza from a restaurant a few streets over, Amycus watched every movement. When she hung up the phone, he had several more questions. Hermione didn't mind. She could always appreciate an inquisitive mind. Hadn't she been the exact same way when the roles were reversed and she was trying to find her way in the wizarding world?

"I know how to use a telephone," Amycus declared proudly. The smug grin on his mouth made Hermione chuckle. "At the care home the director taught me. I've only made a couple of calls to practice, but I know what to do."

"Does the director know you're a wizard?"

Amycus blushed again and dropped his eyes to the floor. Hermione wondered if he had always been so bashful or if ten years locked up in a prison cell stripped him of all of his somewhat limited social graces. Maybe he was simply uncomfortable around women. As much as she hated being uncharitable to anyone, she highly doubted Amycus had had much luck with the ladies in the past.

"Joanne is the daughter of two squibs," he explained. "She knows about magic but doesn't know a lot about the war or well, any of _that_. She made me promise her I'd pull a rabbit out of a hat when I got my magic back."

His confusion at the request was evident. Hermione laughed softly before giving him a basic explanation about Muggle magicians and their tricks. He laughed when her meaning finally became clear.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you that Blaise Zabini came by when you were sleeping."

"What did he say?"

"He just wanted to check to make certain you were all right. He heard about your attack. A bit surprised to see me answer the door."

"I imagine."

"Zabini was very interested in your theory that an auror attacked Thorfinn. Actually rubbed his hands together and smiled before running out. He promised to be back in the morning."

Hermione groaned. Of course Zabini was excited by the prospect of additional danger. She wondered what it was he did all day and hoped he would have some answers when he came back. Being too much in the dark was likely to drive her mad.

Any further thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of the intercom. Amycus jumped off of the couch at the sound, spilling crisps all over the floor. Immediately he felt embarrassed by his overreaction. He crouched down to clean up his mess while Hermione spoke to the deliveryman and accepted the pizza.

Neither of them knew what else to say to each other for the first several minutes of their shared meal at the kitchen table. Hermione was not used to there being silence during dinner when she wasn't alone. It was an unnerving feeling. Finally she just blurted out the first question that came to mind.

"So what do you do at the care home?"

Amycus almost choked on his bite of food. His light blue eyes were wide as if he did not expect her to address him. After his initial hesitation wore off, Amycus swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin before speaking.

"I do a little bit of everything. Mostly work as the caretaker. Fix what needs fixing. Clean what needs cleaning. I help a little with the residents too."

"Do you enjoy it?"

Amycus shrugged his shoulders again.

"It's nice to feel useful. It's been a long time since I felt I was actually doing something good."

"You said they are Muggles. Does that bother you?"

"I won't lie to you. At first it bothered me. I'm fifty-one years old, Miss Granger. From the moment I was born I was taught that I was better than all Muggles and you will have to excuse me, Mudbloods, because I was a Pureblood. And then I was taught I was better than most wizards because my last name is Carrow and I'm Sacred Twenty-Eight. It wasn't the easiest transition to go to being a practical servant for dozens of old Muggles."

"But something changed? You haven't been out of Azkaban very long."

Amycus took a deep sip of the glass of red wine Hermione had poured earlier. She was woefully out of everything else but wine. Amycus seemed to be ordering his thoughts before he answered her question. She did not rush him.

"Even before I ever stepped foot in Azkaban, or even long before I started following the Dark Lord, I've been something of a joke. My whole family really. Have you ever heard anything positive about a Carrow? Honestly?"

Hermione slowly shook her head. No, he was absolutely right about them being a family most liked to make fun of. How many times had she heard it speculated that Amycus and his older sister were _closer_ than two siblings should ever be? She had never heard a kind word spoken about any member of that family. Even Amycus' twin nieces who were younger than Hermione by a year only were invited to be a part of the Slug Club because of who their mother was. Their father was never once mentioned at any of Professor Slughorn's parties.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that we don't deserve some of it. My sister Allie and I made some very poor decisions when we were younger that will follow us the rest of our lives, but it's nice to be somewhere where they don't know who you are. I can be judged by who I am now, not by my past decisions or my family members. It's nice."

"I can certainly understand the feeling."

"One of my first nights there one of the residents needed help getting out of the bathtub. Joanne told me to help him. I had to roll up my sleeves to prevent them from getting wet. He took one look at my Dark Mark and asked me if I got it when I was in the service."

A giggle fell out of Hermione's mouth before she could stop it. Worried that she was offending her guest, she clapped a hand over her mouth. Amycus simply smiled, proving he wasn't upset.

"Do you think any witch or wizard who saw the Mark would behave so calmly?"

"No, probably not."

"I realized later that night when I was trying to get some sleep that in the Muggle world, no one knows me. In the Wizarding world I will always be a Death Eater who tormented hundreds of children."

Amycus gulped down the rest of his wine. His entire countenance had changed since their conversation began. He was ill at ease with the tone their conversation had taken. Hermione couldn't blame him one bit. It _had_ gotten very serious, very quickly.

"I will always regret that year," he declared in a soft whisper. "At the time I was scared out of my wits half the time. The Dark Lord had many effective methods to ensure loyalty. And if he wasn't poking around in my brain to make certain I was instilling the proper amount of fear in the students, Allie was there to remind me.

"I've always been a bloody coward. Allie used to practice Unforgivables on me when we were young. Now I can look back on what I did at Hogwarts with disgust, but at the time, I really was only thinking of myself. Hard potion to swallow all those years in Azkaban. Had plenty of times to think about all of the bad things I've done."

Hermione refilled his wine glass. A dark confession like his deserved a little more cabernet comfort. Part of her wondered if she was simply a sympathetic enough person that the former Death Eater felt comfortable enough spilling his secrets or if all of them were just hungry for someone to listen to them, to treat them like they were human beings. She didn't want him to continue to castigate himself for choices he could not go back and change. She decided to change the entire tone of their dinner conversation.

"So tell me more about Joanne. Your cheeks flush every time you say her name."

Just as she expected, Amycus' entire face turned beet red at the impertinent question. Hermione giggled quietly to herself while her houseguest appeared as if he was wishing the ground would open and swallow him whole.

"She is… _lovely_."

"Come on, Amycus, is that really all I'm going to get?'

"She is kind and pretty and smart. She is too good for me."

"How can you be so sure? You have been given a second chance to become whoever you want to be. Don't give up on the future simply because you regret your past."

To spare him any more embarrassment, Hermione rose from the table to take her dirty dishes to the sink for cleaning later when she felt stronger. Even though she had done little since waking up, she was already exhausted. She said her goodnights to Amycus before slipping back into her bedroom for another night of restless sleep.

* * *

Sunday

Blaise arrived promptly at eight the next morning in the middle of Amycus' lesson how to use a Muggle stove to make the eggs and bacon Hermione stole out of Pasha's flat. She justified the theft by telling herself that Pasha could be gone long past the expiration date and she would certainly replace them at some point before he returned home. Amycus was proving to be a quick study in all things Muggle. More than once, Hermione had to chastise herself internally for thinking an unkind thought about Carrows in general.

"Have you found anything useful?" Hermione asked as she set a plate in front of her private investigator.

"Yes, quite a bit," Blaise replied. "Though how much of it will _prove_ to be useful is still yet to be seen. None of the apothecaries I know of brewed any polyjuice potion recently for anyone inside the country. Likewise, sales of boomslang skin have been rather lackluster lately."

"Dead end?"

Blaise sighed and nodded his head. At least he appeared to be taking his investigation seriously. Hermione had been unsure of him in the past.

"My DMLE contact is checking the auror storage today to check if all vials of polyjuice potion there are accounted for. They keep very detailed records to discourage theft or unauthorized use."

"Amycus said you were interested in our theory that an auror obliviated Thorfinn."

His face split into his handsome grin. Hermione could practically feel his excitement. She did not even try to hide her eye roll. How anyone could find any amount of pleasure in their horrible situation was beyond her comprehension.

"Yes, it is a brilliant theory. I spent most of last night creating a list of all current aurors and possible motives."

He handed her a folder with an extensive list. Unsurprisingly, the Head Auror was right at the top.

 _Potter, Harry_ _– 27, Gryffindor from 1991 – 1997, Auror since 1998. May be displeased with Rowle's romantic relationship with Granger. Does not fit profile, however. Likely would not make crime appear as if Granger were involved. More likely to attack victim himself instead of using an intermediary._

 _Likeliness of being involved – Very Low_

Again, Hermione was impressed by the completeness of Zabini's notes. Every auror in the department was represented. There was a picture next to a short profile as well. He must have stayed up all night compiling his report. She wondered when he found the time to sleep.

"Because you are also likely to be implicated, I tried to include anyone you might have an issue with as well."

Hermione's stomach clenched at the thought of someone within the auror department holding any kind of grudge against her. She flipped through the folder. After the Head Auror and his direct reports, the rest of the aurors were listed alphabetically. In the middle of the profiles her eyes landed on Proudfoot, Iain. He seemed so serious in his official photo, but Hermione knew a side of him that many did not know. He could be wickedly funny under the right circumstances.

 _Proudfoot, Iain_ _– 36, Gryffindor from 1983-1990, Auror since 1993. Romantic relationship with Granger from February 2000 to April 2001. Reasons for end of relationship unknown. On duty night of murder. Whereabouts unknown in Ministry building at time of attack. Eyewitnesses state he was extremely agitated to hear Granger was attacked by victim. Confronted victim about physical altercation with Granger afternoon of murder. Also agitated to hear that Granger was in a relationship with Rowle. Has attempted reconciliation with Granger multiple times in past. Most recent being six months ago. May resent Granger._

 _Likeliness of being involved – High_

Hermione closed the folder and was tempted to give it back to Zabini. There was still a great deal of content within to explore, but she could not bear another moment of Iain's emerald green eyes staring back at her. How did Zabini even know about his attempts at reconciliation over the years? It was disconcerting.

"It's my job to uncover as many details as possible, Granger," Zabini said almost as if he was able to read her mind. "Do you want to correct me or tell me something I don't know?"

"Iain is a good man. I can't imagine him being involved in something so awful."

Blaise was not convinced.

"Good people do bad things all of the time, Granger. How is Proudfoot any different?"

"Why would he attack _me_? Let's just say he _was_ responsible for killing Kenneth and framing Thorfinn. Why would he attack me? Six months ago he told me he still loved me and wanted to try again. He never so much as raised his voice to me the entire time we were together."

"And no one in history has ever tried to kill someone they claimed to love?"

Hermione was half-tempted to curse Zabini in his pretty face. She could not wrap her mind around the theory that Iain was involved. He was the wrong sort of man for her, but that did not mean there was anything wrong with him. Once she almost believed she was in love with him. She was painfully young and he was the dashing auror with the perfect raven hair and an insatiable thirst for passion in public areas that had almost gotten them caught on several occasions. He was not a murderer.

"Sometimes, Granger, we have to explore unpleasant possibilities. Assuming Proudfoot was responsible, what would he have to lose if his involvement was discovered? His job, his prestige, his freedom, possibly even his life. Desperation can make a person act out of character or even harm someone they claim to love."

Hermione hated that she couldn't argue with his statement. Her attacker's warning suddenly popped back into her head. _"You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you, Granger?"_ Maybe they were trying to tell her that if she had just allowed Thorfinn to be taken away to Azkaban she would've been safe. Thorfinn's pleas to be taken back to prison to keep her safe made a scary amount of sense even if she wanted to slap him for saying so.

"None of the female aurors showed a likeliness to be involved according to my arithmentical calculations," Zabini explained. "I was curious about the mysterious woman at Rowle's flat. Paid a visit to Rowle yesterday. Looks like shite, by the way. Very worried about you. Probably hasn't slept properly in days."

She really did not want to hear a report about Thorfinn. She wanted to go to him, feel his arms around her, feel his lips on hers, and allow them both to feel comfort in each other. Maybe their relationship was moving too fast. Maybe they were only growing so close because of the intensity of the events. Maybe they would never function as a real, healthy couple if the drama they were facing was not present, but she did not care. Let them be unhealthy. Let them move too quickly. She felt better, more like her old, idealistic self in his presence.

"Gave him a little task to hopefully occupy his mind a little," Zabini continued. "Had him compile a list of every woman he could remember ever dating, snogging or even just having a one off with."

"I'm certain I _don't_ want to see that list."

Both Blaise and Amycus chortled at the disgusted expression on her face. Zabini handed her a thick roll of parchment against her wishes. She took a deep breath before unrolling it to see just how much of a man-slag her Thorfinn had been in his thirty-five years on the planet. It truthfully was not as bad as she feared. Perhaps all of his boasts that morning of the murder in bed had been simply to show off or make her laugh. _Or he could be lying knowing you might see this list, Granger._ She shook her head to dislodge any more discouraging thoughts.

Some of the names were familiar: Calliope Smith and even apparently Penelope Clearwater which was certainly a surprise. Most of the others were not familiar to her in the slightest. Her eyes travelled down the list until another familiar name popped out at her.

 _Gemma Farley – snogged once seventh year during party in Slytherin Common Room_

While it was just innocent kissing when they were teenagers, Hermione felt uneasy about Gemma's name being on the list. It might have only been because she had been so rude to Hermione lately, but she just could not shake off a suspicion that the witch was somehow involved.

"Don't tell me," Zabini said with a smirk. "Gemma Farley."

"How did you…?"

"Turns out she is the number one suspect for the Ministry leak. Now this is most certainly not public knowledge. The DMLE started an investigation on her just days ago following the leak of Rowle's name to the papers. Unfortunately, the surveillance did not start until _after_ Towler was murdered, but she is being watched very closely now."

Gemma as the leak would make a great deal of sense. She was the Minister for Magic's personal assistant, privy to any number of classified reports. It would not be much of a stretch to suspect she was peddling information she had no right to to the highest bidder. The more Hermione thought about it, the angrier she became. There had been instances in recent days that something she told Kingsley in confidence in the privacy of his office ended up in the Daily Prophet the very next day. Was she always listening in to the private conversations the Minister had?

"Do you think Farley and Iain are responsible?"

"Just a suspicion at this point, Granger. I need more evidence to say for certain."

"What can I do to help?"

Blaise sighed at the question. Hermione got the impression he was about to ask her to do something very unpleasant. She had an inkling of what it was too.

"I would like you to talk to Proudfoot."

"I was afraid you were going to ask that."

"It would be best if the conversation could be held here," Zabini declared. "It's private. He would likely feel more comfortable here and it would give me the ability to eavesdrop."

The sinking feeling in her gut returned in full force.

"Iain isn't going to just start spilling all of his secrets to me, Zabini. He's likely going to be suspicious of me just inviting him over to my flat for a chat."

"That is why you will have to be very persuasive, Granger."

"If he _was_ the one who attacked me and I most certainly am not saying that he was, he's going to be paranoid. He won't say anything if he suspects someone else is in the flat."

"Which is why Carrow and I won't _be_ in the flat when he gets here. The flat underneath you is empty right now."

"How do you…?"

"It's my job, Granger. We will leave well before Proudfoot arrives. Your pet auror outside will even see us leave."

The rest of his plan involved using a harmless unlocking spell on the front door of the empty flat. Blaise apparently had a wide selection of Muggle gadgets that would facilitate his high-tech eavesdropping. Any spell Iain might attempt to use would not affect them. Hermione was impressed enough by his plan to dial Iain's phone number. His mobile had been a present from her years earlier and she knew that he still kept it. Sure enough, after only three rings she heard his voice.

"Hermione?"

"I'm sorry for ringing like this, Iain, it's just…" She forced her voice to crack. He never could bear her tears.

"No, no, no, My, it's all right. Are you okay? I've been worried about you since you were attacked. Potter didn't think it was appropriate to put me on your guard detail."

"No one will tell me anything, Iain. I'm so frightened. Do you think you could come over?"

She hated what she was doing. It was wrong to manipulate Iain, to lie to him. Hermione was certain she was giving him the wrong idea about why she wanted him in her home. A heavy silence fell on his end of the phone. Just when Hermione was afraid she had somehow lost the connection, Iain spoke.

"Of course I will, My. I have to go in to the office in about an hour, but I will come see you first. Just give me five minutes to change."

When she hung up her phone, she glared at a smug Zabini. He seemed awfully pleased with her performance.

"You are quite the actress, Granger."

"Shove off, Zabini. I feel terrible manipulating a good man."

"A good man who very well could have committed murder and almost killed you," Blaise reminded her.

Less than a minute later Blaise and Amycus were leaving the flat and Hermione tried to keep her nerves under control by tidying up the kitchen. Five minutes never seemed to pass by so quickly. Before she was ready, Hermione was opening the front door.

Iain had always looked intimidating in his auror robes. While not nearly as tall as Thorfinn, he hovered just an inch or so above six feet tall. The first time they met officially was just days after the war ended. It was not until they kept bumping into each other at the Ministry that he asked her out. He, once upon a time, had been everything she thought she wanted. She had grown up since then.

He smiled broadly at her when she invited him in her flat. As she was closing the door her eye caught John Dawlish's. His nod was the last thing Hermione saw as the door closed.

"Why are you working on a Sunday?" Hermione asked, desperate for anything to say to start their awkward discussion.

"We aren't going to have that old argument again, are we?"

His tone was light and there was a soft smile on his lips, but Hermione knew he was serious. Their largest obstacle in their relationship had been their mutual tendency to work too much. Two workaholics in the same relationship rarely work out.

"No, I'm sorry. Please come sit down."

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked when they were seated on the sofa. "I heard what spell was used and it terrified me. You were almost dead."

"No need to remind me. I'm still exhausted."

Hermione examined his body language while they spoke. She might not be a respected private investigator like Zabini, but she thought she'd watched enough movies and read enough books to tell when someone had something to hide. Iain was simply… Iain. Nothing odd struck her about his demeanor or his tone of voice. Surely he would have some kind of tell if he had been the one to put her in hospital or been responsible in some way for a brutal murder.

"Harry won't tell me anything," she announced. It wasn't a complete lie. Her best friend had not spoken to her since she was released from the hospital about _anything_. She was certain he was still angry. "Do you know who would've done this to me?"

Iain reached across the space between them to caress her curls. It was such a familiar gesture. He had done it countless times. It felt wrong. Only one wizard had a right to run his fingers through her hair.

"If I knew, My, they'd be dead."

"What?"

"Maybe I shouldn't admit that, but it's the truth. After Towler dared to put his hands on you, I wanted to kill him too."

"Did you?"

Iain's brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed at the question. He stared at Hermione for several long beats without saying a single word or even blinking.

"Is that why you asked me to come here? Fuck, I thought you wanted… _fuck_ , Hermione!"

He released hold of her hair and rose to his full height. She clumsily rose to her own feet as well. Iain was angry, very angry.

"I know it's been a long time, Hermione, but I haven't changed into a cold-blooded killer since we were together. I _wanted_ to kill Towler. I didn't actually kill him. You can thank your Death Eater boyfriend for that."

The door slamming shut behind him caused several frames on her living room wall to plummet to the carpet. She was certain she had never seen him so irate, but wasn't entirely certain _what_ he was angry about. Was he angry that she had manipulated him to get him alone in her flat? She couldn't blame him. Was he angry because she called his integrity as an auror into doubt? Possibly. Or was he angry because she was drawing closer to an uncomfortable and damning truth?

"Well, that was inconclusive," Zabini said only moments after he and Amycus returned. "Did you notice anything strange about him?"

"No."

She really didn't want to talk to Blaise anymore. Even though it was still Sunday morning, she wanted to see Thorfinn. A quick patronus message to Kingsley was returned with a promise that he would meet her at the Ministry lifts in twenty minutes.

"I'm going to follow up on some leads about Gemma," Zabini announced shortly before leaving.

Amycus was not pleased by Hermione's insistence that he remain behind in her flat. She wanted, no, _needed_ to be alone with Thorfinn even if it was only for a brief few minutes.

Kingsley was, as always, a wizard of his word. He was patiently waiting for her just outside the lifts. Beyond a kiss on the cheek and a hasty question about the status of her health, they did not speak on their journey to the bottom of the underground Ministry building.

Thorfinn was asleep when they guard escorted Hermione to his cell. Part of her felt guilty for waking him up when she knew he hadn't been sleeping well. Most of her, however, selfishly wanted to feel him touch her. The opening of his cell door jarred Thorfinn awake. Hermione stepped inside his cell moments later to crawl onto the too-small bed with him. Truthfully she was lying more on top of him than the thin mattress, but he did not seem to mind.

"Am I still dreaming?" he asked, his voice still drowsy with sleep.

"Do you dream about me a lot?"

"Every time I close my eyes, Princess, all I can see is you lying underneath me. You are going to haunt me until I die."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Thorfinn's arms tightened around his witch. Neither of them was very comfortable lying on the tiny, thin mattress on top of the hard, stone bed, but neither of them made any effort to move. Too much time had passed since the last time they laid together and just held each other, Hermione decided. How many days had it been? She did some quick calculations in her head.

Five days. Only five days though they felt at least ten times as many. She had so much she wanted to say to him. So many questions she needed the answers to, but in that moment, they remained silent, afraid to break the spell. Thorfinn's lips kissed the top of her head repeatedly. When he finally spoke again it was with a voice heavy with emotion.

"You really scared me, Princess."

"I'm so sorry."

Hermione just knew she was going to cry if she was not careful. Too many tears had already been shed. Thorfinn did not want to see them ever again. It was a small gift she could offer the incarcerated man. She bit down hard on her bottom lip to focus her attention on something other than the tears prickling the corners of her eye.

"When Shacklebolt told me what happened, I went a bit mad," the wizard explained. "He told me you were going to be all right, but I've never felt so helpless in my entire life."

It was Hermione's turn to tighten her grip on the man. She could feel his frantic heartbeat underneath her ear. It sounded like a deep drum, beating out the seconds of their miserable existence. With her eyes closed she tried to imagine that they were back in the safety of her bed again. They had not had the opportunity to spend enough happy hours in the untroubled darkness without cares or worries of what was happening just on the other side of the door.

Her sharp hip bone digging into his firm thigh prevented her from being able to fantasize any further. Their reality was dire. Hiding or running from it would benefit no one. She could understand his feelings of helplessness and powerlessness. Unfortunately she had been feeling that way longer than she cared to remember. Much longer than just since his arrest.

"Zabini made any progress?" Thorfinn asked, attempting in his own way to lighten the dismal mood that had fallen over the tiny cell.

"He's been checking up on the list you gave him of all your past romantic entanglements."

His entire body stiffened at her words. The shift was almost imperceptible, but she was learning his moods and the way his body usually felt when he was completely relaxed. Thorfinn was on alert. He cleared his throat softly without saying anything in response. Hermione knew he was ill at ease with the thought of her knowing so much about his past. She found it endearing. If it would make him feel better, she was willing to dig up all of the skeletons of her own past. They should have no secrets between them if they really desired a future together. Assuming, of course, that that was even possible.

"Quite an extensive list," she teased, hoping that he would not be upset any longer.

Thorfinn snorted at her remark. Her tears were forgotten, replaced by a grin on her lips.

"Wish I could say I regret none of it, but that would a lie. I used to be something of a…"

"Man – slag?"

Their mutual laughter sounded strange in the sterile jail cell. Neither gave their surroundings much thought. Gradually the tension that had been present from the very beginning of their visit lessened.

"When you are fortunate to be as good-looking as I am, eager birds come with the territory."

"You're incorrigible."

Thorfinn's lips curved into a smile against her head. She felt his arms encircle her further, pulling her closer to his chest. He dropped several kisses amongst her curls before speaking again.

"I know Zabini showed you the list. Any of them horrify you in any way?"

She did not miss the nervousness in his tone. Obviously this was not a discussion he was really looking forward to having with her. Not that she could blame him, of course. If she was the one under investigation, bringing up a list of all of her past exploits would be humiliating indeed. There were several names she either did not wish to remember or physically could not remember. Now _that_ was certainly something she was ashamed of.

"None of them horrified me," she replied. "But one name stuck out to both of us."

At her words, Thorfinn carefully sat up in the bed, bringing her up with him. When they were seated with his back against the wall and her back against his chest, she could sense the curiosity that was coming off of him in waves.

"Oh, yeah? Who?" he asked.

"Gemma Farley."

She could feel him tense up behind her. Carefully shifting herself so she could turn her head around to look in his eyes, Hermione found an annoyed wizard. His beautiful blue eyes were narrowed and he seemed more than a little confused by her confession.

"She and I only snogged once as part of a dare in some rubbish drinking game seventh year. She's hardly anyone special. Why does she stick out?"

Before she could even respond, he interrupted her with a question that made her burst out in a loud laughter.

"You're not jealous, are you, Princess?"

Based on the expression on his countenance, Thorfinn was not teasing her. He seemed legitimately concerned that she was upset with him. She granted him a warm smile and leaned back to kiss him firmly on the lips.

"Does she hold any grudges against you?" Hermione asked, curious to know just _why_ he was so bothered by Farley of all people.

"Well, I'm not sure," he responded. "That was almost twenty years ago. Surely she's not still angry with me after all of this time."

"Clearly you underestimate the power of a grudge when it comes to a woman scorned."

Thorfinn shrugged his shoulders as if he had no further concern about the witch's emotions. Part of Hermione feared that there were more Gemmas amongst the list she read than she was entirely comfortable with. How many women did he just cast aside in his past? Were there more who were still holding on to a resentment years after their relationships ended? While she was not really afraid that once they got this all false accusation cleared up that there would be another murder he would be framed for, she did wonder if they would need to worry about rancorous witches spitting on him in the street.

"Gem wanted there to be more to us than I ever wanted. She had an embarrassing crush on me for years."

"Embarrassing for you or embarrassing for her?"

"Both, I'm sure. I never fancied her. Thought she was annoying. She was _enthusiastic_ to say the least to pursue me after that one incident. Followed me to classes, tried to sit next to me at meals. Even sent some nasty letters to the girls I _would_ shag cursed with some pretty awful hexes. Made all of Calliope Smith's hair fall out. I mean _all_ of it. Not just on her head."

Hermione could not prevent the amused chuckles from bubbling out of her. At least Calliope was a horrid cow who deserved what she got. She wished she could have been there to witness the moment the Hufflepuff from the ghastly family realized her long, thick blonde hair was coming out of her head in clumps. Thorfinn wasn't even bothering to hide his chortles behind her.

"All right, that one was pretty funny," he admitted. "But she's always seemed a bit unstable to me. Even avoided her the few times I saw her after we left Hogwarts."

"Has she tried to contact you since you've been out of prison?"

She felt him tense yet again behind her. _Well_ , she thought to herself, _at least I can tell in the future when he tries to lie to me._ She hoped that she would never have to worry about him telling her falsehoods once they put this nightmare behind them, but it was at least a bit encouraging to know that she was learning to read the man. Thorfinn did not immediately answer her question. The more he fidgeted behind her, the more she knew he was holding something back from her. Something potentially upsetting. Despite not wanting to call his integrity into question again, even inadvertently like the last time, she could not help but wonder if he actually _did_ remember the woman coming to his flat and if he was lying to her when he said that he hadn't.

"She came to visit me the night I was arrested," he confessed with a heavy sigh.

"What?! Why didn't you say anything?"

"It didn't seem important at the time. Some auror escorted her down here not long after you left. She laughed at me. Said that being behind bars suited me. Said she was personally going to make certain I never got out again."

Hermione rose abruptly from the confines of Thorfinn's arms. Within moments she was pacing the too-small room, upset and afraid that she could no longer trust the man. She could not understand why he had not told her that Gemma Farley came to visit him. To her, that did not seem like an inconsequential detail. Was there something more to the visit he was unwilling to share? Something more to his relationship with the clearly unstable woman than he wanted to admit to? What else was he hiding from her?

"Princess, stop," he begged, standing behind her and running his hands up and down the outside of her arms in a futile effort to calm her pacing. "She seemed so insignificant that night. Do you realize how many people came down here that night just to sneer at the Death Eater in a cage? How many have come since? I'm something of an attraction these days."

"You said an auror brought her down. Do you know which one?"

Thorfinn sighed a deep, heavy, almost defeated sigh. Hermione felt a pang of sympathy for the frustrated man as he ran his hands through is blond hair.

"I don't know his name," he answered after a short pause. "Seen him a few times with some of the others when they come down here to interview me. Blinks a lot. Light eyes. Gray maybe? Brown hair."

Hermione could not be sure who he was talking about. There were a number of aurors in the department and she did not know them all by sight. All she was able to glean from his description was a small sense of relief that he was certainly not describing Iain. While he had been extremely angry that she even so much as _hinted_ that she thought he was capable of the heinous crime of murder, at least it seemed that she was wrong about him. Maybe one day Iain would forgive her for her lack of faith, but in that moment, she could not have cared any less about his opinions on the matter.

"Gemma is the number one suspect of the Ministry leak," Hermione announced. "This was told to me in the strictest confidence. She's under surveillance now. If she does anything stupid, someone is going to figure it out."

Thorfinn wrapped his arms around Hermione's slim frame. She spun around in the circle of his arms to place her own arms around his waist. For several minutes they just held each other in that dismal cell without uttering a single word. A stray thought about a conversation she felt they needed to have at some point popped back into her mind. Turning back around to face the man, she spoke in a somewhat threatening tone. He needed to know that she was completely serious.

"If you ever even _think_ about begging anyone to throw you back in Azkaban, so help me, Thorfinn, I will curse you with every last breath in my body."

He did not smile. Did not smirk. Only pulled her closer. His cheek rested on the top of her head. In the softest whisper she had ever heard him use, he responded.

"Do you not realize by now, Princess, that freedom means nothing to me if you're not here to share it with me?"

Hermione felt a lump form in her throat at his tender words. No one, _no one_ had ever said anything half as meaningful to her before. This was a man with his literal freedom and possibly his life to lose, and all he could think about was that his life was not worth living if she was not there. When did his feelings for her grow to such a level? Reina's words about her older brother being in love with her ran through her mind. Was it possible? She wasn't so sure. They had moved so fast in such a short period of time. Did that make their feelings and emotions somehow less trustworthy? Or perhaps with all of the tension and drama and unbelievable circumstances they kept finding themselves in, they were somehow making more of their liaison than was really there? If they were just two people who met one night in a pub with none of their backstory and history together, would they have reached the point in their relationship where the possibility of _love_ manifested itself so quickly? She was certain she would never have the answers to her questions.

A discreet clearing of a throat just outside the door to the cell brought her crashing back to reality. Kingsley stood just outside of the bars, turned away slightly so as to give them at least a semblance of privacy.

"I apologize, but it has been almost an hour. You cannot stay any longer, Hermione."

Thorfinn groaned in vehement frustration at the intrusion. Hermione could not believe that so much time had passed. It felt as if she had just arrived only minutes ago. Did they really waste so much time arguing and then not speaking? She stepped onto her tiptoes to brush her lips against him. Not satisfied with the chaste peck she was attempting to give, Thorfinn's arms snaked around her waist and he deepened the kiss in an effort to steal her breath from her body. When they broke apart an eternity later, he begged her once more to be careful.

Neither she nor Kingsley said a word the entire walk to the lifts. Hermione was growing weary of this almost-daily trek to the bowels of the Ministry. How much longer were they going to be expected to continue like this? She wondered if Harry's department was even trying to figure out what happened to Kenneth or if they were simply going to continue with the assumption that Thorfinn was responsible. Would they wait much longer before they dragged him to the floor of the Wizengamot for a trial that was likely to be nothing more than a farce? She could feel the heaviness in her stomach return with a vengeance. The breakfast she had helped Amycus prepare only a short time earlier felt like a stone in her gut.

Zabini needed to know that Gemma was taunting Thorfinn in his jail cell. Likely he would know exactly which auror it was that he had been describing. She wished too late that she had had the presence of mind to keep his auror folder for just a bit longer to peruse when she returned home. Maybe one of them would pop out at her after some investigating of her own. Once they were outside of the boundaries of the Ministry, Hermione removed her wand from her pocket. Kingsley did not say a word at the unexpected movement, only watched her every motion. Conjuring a patronus was not an easy task when she was so emotionally conflicted and she was in so much internal turmoil, but somehow she was able to produce one on the first try.

 _"Zabini, we must talk. Come to my flat as soon as possible."_

Her otter sped off towards the unknown. Kingsley kissed her once on the cheek. Remembering her attack just a few short days earlier, he refused to move from the spot they were standing in until she was safely away. He would never understand how much she appreciated his support. She smiled at him, loving the broad, toothy grin she got in return. In less than a moment, she was hurtling across the city towards home.

Sunday mornings were usually quiet in her building. Most of the residents enjoyed a good lie-in on the weekends. Usually that was the only day that Hermione even allowed herself an extra hour or two of sleep. No one met her on the staircase or in her corridor until she arrived at her door. The auror Dawlish was still standing his silent vigil just outside her flat. Hermione nodded in his direction before opening the door.

"Amycus? I'm back."

There was no answer. Determined to not be paranoid, she called his name again. Still no answer. Her flat was small enough that she could always hear the running water of the shower no matter where she was standing. There was nothing but silence in her flat. Reminding herself to take a deep breath, she checked the kitchen. All of the dirty dishes from their breakfast that morning had been carefully washed and dried without magic. A single teacup was still sitting on the table next to the current edition of The Sunday Times. The bathroom door was open, the room empty. While she could not imagine him ever needing to go into her bedroom for any reason, Hermione scanned the room for any sign of her houseguest.

Nothing. She retraced her steps looking for any kind of note that he might have left explaining where he was going. It was possible that he had just stepped out for a few minutes to go to the market. Her kitchen was bare after all. Somehow all of the rational reasons for why Amycus Carrow was not in her flat did not seem plausible. She _knew_ something was wrong. He promised Thorfinn he would not leave her alone and unprotected. Based on the conversation she had with the other two Death Eater parolees, they were taking their vow to protect her seriously. Amycus would not just wander out without leaving some kind of clue where he had gone.

Dawlish did not seem surprised by the front door of her flat opening only a couple of short minutes after she disappeared inside. He stepped back from the wall he had been leaning against to give the appearance that he was actually listening to a word she said. Hermione did not like the man. Something about him made her feel on edge.

"Have you seen Carrow?" she asked.

The seasoned auror simply stared at her without speaking for the first several seconds following the utterance of her question. When he finally shook his head in the negative, Hermione was drawn to the man's eyes. Dawlish kept blinking his light gray eyes. It reminded her strongly of a nervous owl. Slowly the auror moved in her direction. He approached her just as one might approach a wild animal, cautiously, yet deliberately. Hermione saw a single bead of perspiration drip down from his brown hair.

 _This_ was the auror Thorfinn described. The man who had been put in charge of her personal guard detail was the one that escorted Gemma Farley down to the cells on Level Eleven. It might have been brushed off as something of a coincidence that she should not worry about if he hadn't chosen that moment to disarm her. As she felt her wand fly out of her front pocket into the auror's hand, she fought the urge to throw up. She was not going to get out of this one easily.

Dawlish shoved her inside her flat. The door slammed shut behind them, echoing up and down the empty corridor.

* * *

In her albeit rather exciting life, Hermione was pleased to have only been held captive one other time. During the war she was close to capture multiple times, but only the nightmarish evening spent in Malfoy Manor really counted. Strange that she had to wait ten years after the war ended to be held captive again. And in her own home.

Once Dawlish pushed her inside her flat, he wasted no time in casting a rather effective incarcerous spell on her person. Her arms and legs were tightly bound. At least he had the presence of mind to let her sit on her sofa. Spending too long in that position on the floor would have been agony on her still-recovering limbs. Her eyes kept moving to the clock on the mantle above her fireplace. Only a few minutes had actually passed though it felt much, _much_ longer.

Dawlish seemed to lack the ability to be still. He trailed around the couch, staring at the woman he was responsible for protecting. He was nervous if the constant perspiration was any indication. When she tried to speak for the first time, he placed her under a strong silencing spell. She could move her mouth, but no sound came out. She tried to remain calm. There was nothing for her to gain by panicking. Of course, it is a lot easier to remind yourself to remain calm than it is to actually remain calm. Just as she managed to half-convince herself that being tied up and under a silencing spell was somehow interfering with her ability to breathe, there was a quiet knock at the front door. Hermione remembered asking Zabini to come to her flat as soon as possible. A tiny bubble of hope formed in her gut.

"Finally!" Dawlish hissed.

The guest was not Zabini. Hermione could have cried when she watched a rather smug Gemma Farley slip in the front door. As soon as the door was shut behind her, Gemma grabbed Dawlish by his arms. For several noisy, uncomfortable seconds she was forced to witness their rather enthusiastic greeting with their lips and their tongues. It both angered Hermione and disgusted her to the point she feared her eggs from breakfast were about come back out in the world.

When the two managed to come up for air, Gemma stared at their hostage bound on the couch. The Minister's personal assistant broke apart from her auror to stalk over towards her hostage. She glared at Hermione for a short time before laughing.

"Not so high and mighty now, are you, Granger?"

Hermione always knew she did not like the woman. Until that day there had not really been a good reason for her dislike of the Slytherin. Every word that fell out of Farley's oversized mouth only increased her ire.

"You've been quite an inspiration lately for many embarrassing articles, haven't you? I've been enjoying reading Skeeter immensely. It's been fun," Gemma laughed. "I was the one who tipped off the photographers that you and Towler would be on a date. He was bragging about it in the canteen. The Daily Prophet was more than happy to wait around for your date."

A vast sense of guilt settled over Hermione at the announcement. She had always assumed that Kenneth was the one who maneuvered their first and only date into the papers. From the very beginning she assumed that he was trying to take advantage of the fact that he was dating a war heroine and a recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class. It was the kind of thing that a man like him would do after all. Knowing that he was not responsible only made her feel worse.

She did not understand what Gemma had to gain from all of this. Clearly she was involved. Not only in Kenneth's murder but in Thorfinn's framing. Hermione wondered if she would act like all of the other terrible villains in Muggle movies and explain her dastardly plan to her captive audience in great detail. Farley seemed like the narcissistic twit who would be interested in making certain that everyone knew how intelligent and devious she was.

"Where's the Death Eater?" Gemma demanded of her paramour.

"Stunned and disillusioned on her bed," Dawlish answered.

"Why is he still alive?"

"I can't kill him, Gem. Besides an Avada being painfully easy to trace, the moment his heart stops beating a team of aurors show up. How I do I explain _that_ away?"

Gemma seemed annoyed, but pacified by his answer.

"Guess we will have to work with that. Could make our plan easier."

Hermione was desperate to know what their plans were. If she had the ability to speak, she would be asking a thousand different questions that she just knew the other woman would be unable to ignore. No one, however, was in a hurry to explain to the tied up woman on the couch just what in the hell was going on.

"How will it make it easier?" asked Dawlish, almost as confused as their captive.

Gemma groaned and rolled her eyes.

"This all would have been just a little bit easier if you had half a brain, John!"

Hermione _almost_ felt sorry for the embarrassed man. But considering he was responsible for her being in the current predicament she was in, her sympathy was non-existent. Dawlish's cheeks flushed a vivid red. She could not be sure if it was due to anger, mortification or perhaps a combination of both.

"We can make it look like _she_ killed him after he tried to kill her."

Dawlish continued to blink his oversized eyes in confusion. Gemma groaned again.

"Seriously, John, how did you get Os on all of your NEWTs and complete auror training, but still can't figure out how to stage a crime?"

The middle-aged auror did not even have a coherent response to the younger woman. He simply closed his mouth and waited for her explanation. _At least_ , Hermione thought, _he's learned that much_.

"We kill _her_ without using magic," Gemma explained. "Then we use her wand to kill the Death Eater and get the fuck out of here before the _competent_ aurors arrive."

"How do you propose we kill her?"

The front door shut with a deafening 'click'. All three current occupants of the room turned to see a smirking Matthew Kettletoft. His entrance had been so silent that no one had even noticed his arrival.

"Oh, please, Gemma dear, allow me the honor," Matthew declared, his green eyes flashing in Hermione's direction.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

There was not a proper word in English that could possibly describe how bloody terrified Hermione was the moment that her supervisor entered her flat. Something in the back of her mind kept her from believing that Gemma Farley and John Dawlish would be able to carry through with their dastardly plans. After all, neither of them really possessed a strong enough grudge against her personally to justify murder. Matthew Kettletoft on the other hand was a completely different story.

The smirk fell off of Matthew's face only moments after his arrival. He was all business and his features had a seriousness to them that Hermione had never witnessed before. She did not understand what was going on, but she was more frightened than she had ever been in her entire twenty-eight years on the planet. Matthew was the type to hold a grudge. Was he also the type to kill?

"Silencing spell?" Matthew asked when he saw Hermione try to speak but no sound came out. A devilish grin crossed his lips at the realization that his nemesis could not utter a single audible word. "Fucking genius! I've been wanting to use one on the bitch for eight, long years."

"Why are you late?" Gemma demanded, quite literally stamping her foot in exasperation. "We almost had to start without you."

"You always have been the impatient sort, haven't you, love? Nothing has changed."

"Shut up, Matthew!"

The unit supervisor for the House-Elf Placement Office closed the distance between the front door and Hermione's bound form on the couch in mere moments. He sneered down at the woman before roughly pulling a handful of her hair.

"Oh, I am so going to enjoy this. Eight years was too fucking long to see your face day in and day out."

Matthew released her hair, knocking her head backwards in the process. He had the nerve to wink at her when she narrowed her eyes. If only looks could kill! She desperately wished she was free to attack him. In that moment, Hermione was all but certain that she could rip his face off with only her bare hands. At the very least it would be fun to try. Just when she thought it was impossible to hate him any more than she already did, he proved himself up for the challenge. _Slimy, homicidal git!_

"So what's the plan now that we're all here?" Matthew asked the others gathered in the flat.

"It's simple," Gemma retorted. "You kill her with your bare hands and then we kill the Death Eater. Stage the crime scene and get out. I thought we'd already made this clear."

"You could get a knife from the kitchen. Might make killing the witch a bit easier," suggested Dawlish.

Matthew ignored the auror to turn his full focus on Gemma.

"Not really my style. Besides, that's more of your forte, isn't it, Gemma? You've proven you like to carve up your victims."

Gemma huffed at the remark. She placed both of her hands on her hips in a scarily accurate impersonation of Hermione that made the younger witch rethink ever touching her hips again. She was unaware of how ridiculous she must have looked with flaring nostrils and red cheeks. No wonder her boys always did what she asked when she stood that way. They simply wanted her to stop.

"Well, _someone_ had to kill Towler and John was too squeamish."

"You also enjoy parading around as Rowle?" asked Matthew, smirking once again. "That must have been fun for you. All those years of your unrequited love for the dangerous man. You diddle yourself?"

He raised a single eyebrow at the infuriated witch. Gemma's cheeks were blazing red. Hermione might have been afraid she was at danger of having a stroke if she cared.

"Shut up, Matthew!" Gemma demanded.

Matthew simply laughed at her discomfort. It was apparent that he was enjoying his Sunday afternoon immensely. Hermione wished she could reach out far enough to kick him.

"We are wasting time!" screeched Gemma.

"Seems to me we've got all the time we need," Matthew replied. "You've got her pet Death Eater stashed somewhere, I'm sure. John is the auror on duty for the next several hours. The only man Granger can find willing to touch her is locked up right now. She doesn't have any friends that will just drop by unannounced."

Gemma's frustration was steadily growing higher.

"What is your point, Matthew?"

"I think we should tell Granger _why_ we are all doing this before we kill her. It's only fair and I'm certain her curiosity is about to drive the pesky swot mad."

Hermione's ears perked up at Matthew's suggestion. She could not deny that she was very interested in knowing just why these three were so intent on ruining and possibly even ending her life. But a niggling thought in the back of her mind disturbed her more than anything else. Just _why_ did Matthew care if her curiosity was sated? He never showed any inclination in the past to take her feelings into consideration. The more she thought about it, the more Hermione realized she simply did not care what his motivation was. The longer they could keep talking, the more time she had to hope that Blaise would show up. She was trusting that when Zabini failed to see an auror stationed outside her door, he would be suspicious. Slytherin nature and all.

"Fine! I'll tell the little bitch," Gemma conceded.

The bound captive sat up as straight as she possibly could with the magical ropes still threatening to cut off her circulation. She wanted to know _why_ anyone cared enough to frame Thorfinn for a crime he did not commit.

"I heard Thorfinn was going to be paroled about a month before it happened," Gemma explained. "The Minister really should sweep his office for eavesdropping spells more often. It's almost embarrassing how much I've heard over the last several years. Entirely too many floo calls between him and his husband, that's for certain."

Gemma cringed at the memories. Hermione smiled to herself, ignoring the petulant woman. Kingsley and Ryan were very sweet. Still very much in love after almost twenty years. The irate witch replaced her cringes with another sneer.

"I've always hated Thorfinn," she continued.

"Except when you were desperate to shag him."

"Fuck you, Matthew!"

Kettletoft's laughter rang throughout the entire flat. The sound felt foreign and out of place. Hermione hoped to never hear it again in her home.

"We've already been there and done that, love. Many times. That's John's job now."

Hermione was not surprised in the slightest to hear that there had once been at the very minimum a sexual relationship between Matthew and Gemma. Her supervisor was known throughout the Ministry as being something of a cad, always seducing women and dropping them before they got too serious on his end. Hearts had been broken on just about every level of the building thanks to the man's attractive looks. His affairs were a running joke. Hell, they had even cost him his marriage after all, but it seemed like the poor woman he married was better off without him.

John Dawlish was extremely annoyed by the discussion. He did not appear to want their line of conversation to continue. Hermione couldn't help but laugh to herself. Must not be easy for him to be stuck in an unhealthy relationship with an unstable slag. Unfortunately, Gemma spied her laughing silently. The back of the older woman's hand came crashing across Hermione's cheek before she was aware of the movement. Tears filled up Hermione's eyes at the blow. She could only remember being struck that hard a handful of times in her entire life. Satisfied that her hostage was no longer amused, Gemma continued her story.

"When he got out of Azkaban, I went to his disgusting little flat to visit."

"That was very kind of you, Gem," Matthew teased. "Did you take him a housewarming present or did you just show up starkers under your coat?"

Gemma's cheeks blushed a deep crimson yet again that day. John was furious, but judging by Matthew's loud chortles, he was highly amused.

"Oh, Gemma! I was only joking, but I guess that is an old favorite of yours. She ever show up on your doorstep wearing nothing but her coat, John?"

Dawlish was sputtering in his rage. He could not seem to even form an adequate response. His girlfriend's entire body was shaking due to a combination of anger and humiliation. Neither Matthew nor Hermione even attempted to hide their amusement. Needing some kind of outlet for her wrath, Gemma slapped Hermione again. When she failed to knock the smile off of her face, Gemma hit her three more times with every ounce of strength she possessed in her body. Hermione's face was burning painfully from all of the blows.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, pet. As I recall, that led to a rather enjoyable evening for both of us. How did Rowle take it? Did you finally get inside his trousers?"

"That's enough, Kettletoft," warned Dawlish. "We do not need to discuss this any further. Let's just kill the witch and get out of here."

Ignoring his warning, Matthew laughed again.

"Oh, that's priceless. He rejected you _again_? What was his excuse this time?"

Gemma narrowed her eyes at her former paramour.

"Doesn't matter. John and I went back over there later to obliviate him."

"John, mate, I know relationships are hard to find, especially good ones, but are you really so hard up that you're willing to actually cast a memory charm on a bloke that your witch tried and failed to seduce?"

Dawlish rushed towards Matthew with a fury in his eyes. His fists were clenched. For a moment every person in the room assumed that the auror was going to strike the world's worst Hufflepuff. Even Gemma managed to put herself in between the two men to prevent any violence. She attempted to calm the current man in her life with soothing words and soft touches. After just a few moments, it seemed to be effective. Hermione could not believe what she was witnessing. She felt like she was stuck in the middle of some terrible drama unfolding on television. If this was the tripe she was forced to watch, she would have just changed the channel. She could not even begin to guess what was going to happen next.

"I bet you are just dying to know why we killed Towler and framed your Death Eater boyfriend, aren't you?" demanded Gemma.

"Let's just set the record straight on this one please," Matthew interrupted. " _I_ am not responsible for Towler. In fact, I recall telling you quite clearly, Gemma, that this was all a terrible idea."

"Then why are you here now?"

Matthew spun around to face Hermione once more. An almost feral smile on his face caused every muscle in Hermione's body to tense up. He stared at her as if she was some kind of prey he was anxious to attack and devour. Steadily her fear was growing ever more stronger.

"This is all about Granger now," he answered. "But please, continue with your story before the swot's head explodes in anticipation and I miss the opportunity to strangle her with my bare hands."

"He doesn't deserve to live outside of Azkaban. None of those fucking Death Eaters do. Personally, after that horrible year the Ministry was under their control, I would've loved to get Yaxley instead. It was a shame they put him at St. Mungo's.

"Thorfinn deserves to die behind bars. When John told me that he was found naked in your flat, Granger, I could not believe it. Accused him of lying actually. Wasn't until the next day when I heard it straight from the Minister that I actually believed it. Oh, it was just too perfect. Owled Rita Skeeter with the juicy details. Thought it would be fun to discredit the haughty best friend of Harry Potter with the news she's been fucking a Death Eater. Honestly did not expect Towler's reaction to the news. Now that was _priceless_."

"We'd already been planning a way to make it seem like Rowle broke the conditions of his parole," added Dawlish. "I nicked some polyjuice potion from our training room and we stole some of his hair right before we obliviated him. When he heard about Towler physically attacking you and then Kettletoft gleefully informed Gemma about Rowle's threat to kill him, we made a hasty plan."

Matthew's arms were crossed during their story. He did not seem pleased by the words coming out of their mouths. Hermione thought his behavior a bit odd. It was obvious that their actions upset him in some way. She wondered if there was more to his portion of the story. The clock on the mantle began to clang the hour noisily. She began to wonder where the hell Zabini was just as Gemma began speaking once more.

"John made a large mess down in one of the courtrooms on Level Ten. We knew Thorfinn would be stuck down there for hours cleaning it up. John stayed down there with him to stop him if he tried to leave.

"I drank the polyjuice potion and became Thorfinn. Most bizarre hour of my life even I don't count the murder. Did you know that you don't just take on the appearance of a person with polyjuice but also their strength? I had no idea Thorfinn was so bloody strong. Killing Towler was easier than I ever thought possible. I don't understand why he doesn't kill people more often. It's intoxicating.

"I cornered Towler in the lift. He didn't expect me to be able to disarm him, of course. He put up a respectable fight. Hardly even begged for his life. I actually rather enjoyed stabbing him. Who knew Muggle brutality could feel so cathartic? Once he started bleeding heavily, most of the fight leaked out of him. Snapping his neck was nothing with Thorfinn's muscles. He must feel so powerful all of the time."

Hermione was absolutely disgusted by how aroused Gemma seemed by the violence. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing heavier and she could actually see her hardened nipples through her blouse. It was horrifying to realize just how unstable the woman actually was. Both of the men were visibly unnerved by her as well. Matthew shook his head before asking a question that had been weighing on Hermione's mind as well.

"What was the purpose of cutting his hands off, Gem? That was fucking brutal."

Gemma shrugged her shoulders at the inquiry. Hermione had been horrified to know that Kenneth's body was mutilated long after he was already dead. Why was it necessary to remove his hands? Was his bloody murder not enough for the crazed woman?

"It seemed appropriate. Towler dared to lay his hands on Thorfinn's witch. Cutting them off had a kind of poeticness to it."

If Hermione had had the ability to snort while under the silencing spell, she would have. As deeply as she cared about Thorfinn, she knew he was not one swayed by pretty words, symbolism or poetry. He could be a vicious killer when the blood lust was on him, but she could not imagine him disfiguring a corpse. He would have more respect for his enemies than that. Gemma obviously did not understand the first thing about the man whose life she was trying to ruin.

"What did you do after that?" Matthew asked. "You told me that you went into Hermione's office afterwards? Why?"

"I wanted people to see me in Thorfinn's body covered in Towler's blood. It wasn't a difficult task. Several people were still working on your level when I walked in. Once I went inside Granger's office I stripped down…"

"Of course you did. Needed to see Thorfinn Rowle in all his naked glory, huh?"

Gemma glared at Matthew, but despite just hearing a sordid tale of her ability to commit homicide, he was not frightened. Simply laughed at her once more. Hermione found his obvious disdain for the woman amusing. She just hoped that whatever he was doing keeping her talking would continue to work. She just needed a little bit longer. Surely Zabini was on his way.

"I left the bloody clothes in there as evidence, and considering Thorfinn can't even physically do magic, I thought that performing several obvious cleaning spells and leaving a magical trace all over the room would make it seem like Granger was involved. It was a last minute addition to the plan that John certainly appreciated."

"Why is that, John?" Matthew asked. "Why were you so keen on Hermione being arrested as an accomplice?"

Dawlish blinked several times before he finally managed to squeak out a coherent answer.

"I've been an auror for many, many years," he stated. "Long before you were even in school, Granger. Once upon a time I was respected. There were many who believed I would one day head the auror office, maybe even the entire DMLE. But after all of that mess with Dumbledore and then with McGonagall, my career trajectory changed."

Hermione knew that he spent several years as the butt of several jokes because of his seeming inability to perform the duties of his job. He had been cursed several times by very powerful wizards and witches in the last few years of the war. Once it ended, he was all but pushed aside in the department for the sudden arrival of the Chosen One. She could understand his bitterness. No one would ever take the man seriously again.

"The _child_ is now the Head Auror and I am stuck guarding a worthless chit of a girl. Thought it would be interesting to see what would happen when his best friend was arrested as an accomplice. No doubt he would use all of his power to keep her out of prison. Once that was discovered, he would be discredited. Might not put me back in the good graces of the department, but at least I would feel a small sense of vindication."

"So Gemma killed Towler and made it look like Hermione helped just so you could feel better about the fact that you haven't had a promotion in over ten years?"

Obviously Matthew was not impressed with the story that was told. Neither was Hermione. John Dawlish was a petty man. While she could feel a bit sorry for him because of what life had handed him, all sympathies ceased when she realized that he not only was willing to allow the wrong man to take the fall for a serious crime he did not commit, but he was actually willing to participate in at least two more murders to cover up his first tracks. She got the feeling that the answer to the question of who it was that cursed her in the back was staring at her with his perpetually blinking light gray eyes. He made her sick.

"That's the most pathetic excuse for a murder I've ever heard of, mate," Matthew laughed. "At least Gem was willing to commit murder because she was a scorned woman. There's a precedent for that. A shite job, not so much."

"Shut up, Matthew," Gemma hissed. "What was your motivation for getting involved?"

"Gemma, love, how many times do I have to answer that? I had _nothing_ to do with Towler's murder. If I had, I wouldn't have bollocksed it up. I'm only here because you were stupid enough to tell me what you did and you asked me for help getting rid of Hermione."

He turned his attention back to the woman still seated on the sofa. She was growing weary of the entire situation. Either Zabini needed to hurry up and get there or the idiots just needed to hurry up and kill her. She was quickly getting to the point that she didn't care which.

"Naturally the thought of killing the pain in my arse from the last eight years is extremely appealing," Matthew mused. "So, is that all of the explanation you want to give before we do this? Anything else we are missing? Some bit of knowledge that might make her last few minutes alive easier?"

Neither Dawlish nor Gemma spoke. They had already given a thorough account of the events leading to Thorfinn's arrest. Too bad no one else was witness to their confession. If the right person had been listening, Thorfinn would be exonerated of all charges and allowed to finally come home. It was a bitter realization for Hermione to swallow.

Matthew moved closer to Hermione. Despite no sound coming out of her mouth, she could tell that her breathing had grown heavier. She struggled to keep her nerves under control. If this was going to be the last few minutes of her life, she was going to meet death with the same amount of strength and courage that Harry did the day of the final battle. No one would ever be able to say that she met death weeping and begging for mercy. She was a Gryffindor after all. That had to count for something.

The point of Matthew's wand poking into her cheek caused her to jump. Angry with herself for the unexpected reaction, she blinked away the tears that were blurring her vision. Her boss simply laughed at her discomfort. He did not say a word, but a tingling sensation began in the spot where his wand was still pushed into her skin. Unlike the night she was cursed, this radiating numbness was almost pleasant in its gentleness. Her face and neck swiftly grew numb.

"No magic!" reminded Dawlish. "She has to be killed with your hands or a knife. It has to be done without magic."

"Yes, and make it look good," added Gemma. "It has to look like the Death Eater attacked her hard enough to warrant her killing him in self-defense. We don't want too many questions."

"I do understand the point," spat Matthew.

"Fine, it's just a suggestion," she continued. "Punch her in the face a few times. Grab her arms. Maybe make it look like an attempted sexual assault. Hell, actually rape her if you want. It will only make it look that much more real."

Matthew's face erupted into a deep scowl at the very idea of taking Hermione against her will. In the moment that Gemma suggested such a depraved act, their hostage could hardly breathe. A rape would most certainly give her enough of a reason to try to kill an unarmed man. She once was held closely to the body of a man who threatened her with rape. Or rather he wasn't so much a man as an evil monster. Fenrir Greyback took the opportunity he was provided at Malfoy Manor to terrify his intended victim with promises of what was to come once Bellatrix was finished with her. Just thinking about the werewolf's foul breath on her neck made her entire body erupt into terrified goosebumps and a slight tremble shook through all of her limbs.

"I would _never_ put my todger anywhere near that cunt," Matthew declared. "Just the thought of it makes him go all soft."

"Fine. Just get on with it," she snapped. "We don't have all day."

Matthew turned his full attention back to Hermione. She was determined that no matter what happened, she would keep her eyes on him. Maybe it would make it harder for him to follow through with his plan to kill her. At least that was what she was hoping. Matthew switched his wand to his left hand. Fisting up his right, she saw it coming for her jaw long before it actually made contact. Her head was thrown back at the impact, but because of the numbness she was experiencing, she did not feel a thing.

"Nice one," Gemma said. "Give her a few more and then get on with it."

Instead of another punch to her face, Matthew switched his wand back to his right hand. With his left, he grabbed her throat. She knew he was touching her, but again, she could not feel a thing. Even as the pressure increased, there was no pain.

"You know, Granger, I have always fucking hated you."

In one swift movement, Matthew used his hand on Hermione's throat to pull her down onto the ground. He covered her body with his. A muttered ' _protego_ ' from his wand encompassed them both. Before she had a chance to even think about just what the hell he was doing, her front door was blasted into pieces. Curses flew out of at least half a dozen wands. Gemma and Dawlish tried to put up a fight, but they were no match for the aurors bursting through the hole in the wall of her flat.

"Gemma Farley, you are under arrest for the murder of Kenneth Towler," stated Head Auror Potter in his most officious tone. "You are also being charged with unlawful imprisonment, kidnapping, obstruction of justice, impeding an auror investigation, resisting arrest and probably about a dozen other charges we will no doubt uncover when we get you back to the Ministry. I'm sure the Minister will have some charges he would like to add regarding your violation of confidentiality."

The woman attempted to argue with Harry, but much like Dawlish had done with Hermione, Gemma was under a powerful silencing spell before more than a word or two was uttered. When she attempted to kick at the aurors in the process of detaining her, they placed her in a full body bind.

"John Dawlish, you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, unlawful imprisonment, kidnapping, obstruction of justice, impeding an auror investigation, theft from the auror department and likewise, I am certain we will be able to tack on more charges when we continue our investigation," Harry announced.

Dawlish went much quieter. A silencing spell was not even required. He stood there defeated in the middle of the flat just waiting for the arresting aurors. While he was being led from the room, Matthew climbed off the floor. He released the silencing spell and incarcerous spell still plaguing Hermione's body. When he offered her his hand to help her off of the floor, she just stared at it. Everything had just happened so quickly she was still unsure what she had just witnessed.

"Hermione, take my fucking hand," Matthew said, impatiently holding it out in the air.

She allowed him to help her to her feet. The flurry of activity around her flat was hard to take in. Zabini and Yaxley pushed through the crowd of aurors in the space where the front door used to reside.

"Kettletoft, thank you for your help," Blaise stated, shaking her boss' hand.

"Where's Carrow?" demanded Yaxley. His eyes were sweeping the area, no doubt expecting to see his comrade's body shoved in a dark corner somewhere.

"Bedroom. Right, Hermione?" Matthew said.

All she could muster was a nod of her head. She watched Yaxley disappear into the bedroom with an auror she did not recognize. Harry met her eyes from the other side of her sofa. Kingsley stood just a few feet behind him. When both men came rushing in her direction, she could not stop the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. As long as she was not dreaming and they were both actually standing in her flat, she was saved.

"Are you all right, 'Mione?" Harry asked. His hands brushed against her still tender cheek. The numbing spell Matthew placed on her was slowly disappearing and the pain was making itself known. "Do you need a healer?"

"No," she muttered. "Please tell me what just happened."

Blaise stepped forward to answer.

"Simple really, Granger. Kettletoft has been working with me for the past few days," Blaise explained. "When Gemma contacted him to tell him her plans for today, he informed me. I contacted Potter. We set up a surveillance in the empty flat below yours again."

Hermione caught Iain's gaze over the crowd and felt immediately guilty about their exchange that morning. He also felt guilty if the immediate lowering of his eyes was any indication.

"Why would Gemma tell you what she was planning?" Hermione asked Matthew.

"Simple. She's an idiot," he retorted. "I mean, she's intelligent, but she doesn't have a good grasp on common sense. Wants everyone to know when she's clever or has a great idea. No doubt she could not bear for no one to know how she pulled off framing Rowle."

"But you wanted to kill me?"

Matthew actually seemed offended by her question.

"Just because I hate you, Hermione, doesn't mean I want to murder you."

"Wow, Matthew, that might actually be the sweetest thing you have ever said to me."

They both started chuckling quietly to the general confusion of the others gathered around them. Zabini blinked a couple of times before continuing his explanation.

"Thankfully Potter and the Minister were more than a little interested in setting up surveillance downstairs when they knew you were involved, Granger. Kettletoft volunteered to enter the flat and keep them occupied. We wanted a solid confession before the aurors burst in. Guilty parties tend to stop talking once they're arrested. Thanks to Kettletoft's quick thinking, we were able to capture their entire confession. They will be going away to Azkaban for a very long time."

"And Thorfinn?"

She spun around to face Kingsley and Harry. They both had matching grins on their very different faces.

"Would you like to come with us to the Ministry when we release him, my girl?" Kingsley asked.

"Of course!"

"We will also be needing your official statement, 'Mione. Would you like to give it today or would you like to come to the office tomorrow?"

"Give the lass a chance to breathe!" stated Yaxley as he entered the living room with a dazed, but perfectly whole Amycus just steps behind him. "Let her go get her wizard and give them some time alone before you start demanding statements from her."

Hermione felt her cheeks burn at his words. Yes, some time alone with her wizard would definitely be welcome. She focused her attention on the activity that was still happening in her flat. Both of the prisoners were gone, most likely already on their way to Level Eleven. She would have loved to have seen Thorfinn's reaction when he witnessed the two of them escorted to cells near his. Iain was putting the last touches on her repaired door. She sincerely hoped that there would be no need to blast her door off of its hinges any time soon.

"I want to see Thorfinn," she announced.

Yaxley shook her hand one final time before he claimed he was heading home for what he hoped would be a quiet Sunday afternoon with the missus. Before Amycus left to catch a train back to Kent and to the woman he was smitten with, Hermione wrapped her arms around him for one of the first hugs he had likely had in years. She promised that very soon she and Thorfinn both would come to visit him. Maybe even get a chance to meet his Joanne. He exited the flat with reddened cheeks but a small smile on his lips.

"Thanks for the numbing spell," Hermione said to Matthew. They were the last two to leave the flat. Harry, Kingsley and Iain were just a few feet ahead of them in the corridor.

"Had to make it look real," Matthew replied. "And unlike my piece of shite cousin, I don't hit women."

The bitterness in his tone was unmistakable. It angered Hermione that Smith's family knew what he did within the privacy of his own home, but had done nothing to stop it. She was grateful once more that Pasha had been able to smuggle Reina and the girls out of the country. They had been spared the worst of the drama.

As they passed the door to Pasha's flat, a shimmery figure up against the wall jumped out in front of Hermione. Startled for a moment, she reached for her wand. Realizing that she never got it back after she was disarmed by Dawlish, she was completely defenseless when a recognizable figure removed his Disillusionment charm and shouted a curse.

"What the fuck did you do with my family, Granger?!"

Moments after the curse struck her right in the chest, she saw Iain and Matthew both tackle Zacharias to the floor of the corridor. Kingsley began muttering the countercurse immediately. The last coherent thought she had as her limbs began to stiffen just as they had the last time she was cursed in the back was that at least they finally knew who was responsible for almost killing her the first time.

* * *

 _Author's Note: I just couldn't leave this story on that horrible cliffhanger from yesterday! See what all of your awesome, encouraging reviews motivate me to do? This story is coming to a close. Maybe only a chapter or two left. Let me know what you think!_


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty One

Thursday

The room was dark. The bed was uncomfortable. Every single muscle in Hermione's body screamed out in pain when she moved. She felt as if she had been asleep for weeks and still could sleep more. Any bit of movement was a struggle. When she tried to turn her head to take in her surroundings, she found herself unable to shift more than an inch or two.

Her failed attempt at moving around caught the attention of someone else in the room. She couldn't see who it was, but could hear footsteps on the hard floor growing louder. The bed dipped down behind her and she all but melted into the embrace she had been desperate for since this horrible nightmare began. As large, strong arms wrapped themselves around her exhausted and stiff frame, she sighed the sigh of deep contentment.

"How are you feeling, Princess?" Thorfinn whispered softly into her ear.

Hermione shivered at the feel of his breath tickling the sensitive skin just there. Yes, they had had the opportunity to touch and kiss and even cuddle when they were inside his jail cell. That had not been enough. Even though she was fairly certain she was back inside the thrice-damned Spell Damage ward at St. Mungo's, she began to feel at ease again. Her memories were hazy. Was it all over? Did they have anything else to fear?

"I feel… _weird_ ," she answered, every syllable a struggle to utter.

Thorfinn's lips pressed to her hair just above the same ear. His arms tensed slightly. For such a large, impressive man, he could be gentle and tender when necessary. She remembered the way he held his little, crying niece and how he calmed her down with promises that he would not let anything hurt her again. That had been a side to him that Hermione was both surprised and riveted to see.

"You don't feel weird to me," he replied, playfully squishing her in a few places with his fingers. "In fact, you feel almost heavenly."

"Ha ha, Thorfinn," she answered, her sarcasm failing spectacularly in that moment. Every word was slowly becoming easier to speak. "What happened?"

Her wizard sighed deeply behind her. It was the noise that she had come to associate with his attempt to hide his fear. Unfortunately, she had had experience listening to the sound over the course of their whirlwind romance on multiple occasions.

"You scared the shite out of me, Princess. _Again_."

"I'm sorry."

He kissed her head once more in the same spot.

"No, nothing to be sorry about," he assured her. "It was all my fault. Fucking bastard of a brother-in-law tried to kill you _again_ because I did not put him down when I had the chance."

Hermione's strength was gradually returning the longer she was awake. She summoned up enough to place her hand on one of his arms. The slow rub she managed served to soothe his ire somewhat. Tense moments passed where he tried to calm down even further.

"He was drunk," Thorfinn explained. "Disgustingly pissed. According to some of the Healers here, he'd been pissed for days. Obviously not thinking clearly. Knew that you knew where Reina and the girls were. Only an idiot would attack you in front of two aurors and a former auror."

His grip on her tightened slightly as if he were trying to convince himself that she was really there.

"The Minister was able to perform the countercurse in time, but because you had _just_ been cursed a few days earlier, your body almost could not handle the damage. They had to rush you here. Apparently it was touch and go there for a little bit."

The emotion in his voice was heavy. Hermione knew that if she had the strength to turn her head around to stare into his handsome face she would see tears rolling out of his beautiful blue eyes. She hated that she had given this man any reason to worry. No, it had not been her fault that a crazed drunkard was intent on ending her life, but she still could not stymie the overwhelming guilt she was experiencing. Had he not suffered enough in his short time outside of Azkaban?

"The Minister brought me over here immediately after I was released. He's not a bad bloke."

Hermione chuckled. No, she could honestly say Kingsley had been a lifesaver and sanity-preserver over the past several days. He had been the only one who had been consistently on her side. She was not sure how she would ever be able to repay him for his kindness.

"I've been here ever since. Just watching and waiting."

"How long have I been here? What day is it?"

"It's either very late Wednesday or very early Thursday. I don't have a watch."

All of the drama happened on Sunday. Poor man had been stuck in the hospital with her for almost four days. Hermione did her best with her limited strength to push her body up against his in some attempt at reassurance. She was really only able to manage wiggling her bum against him.

"Careful there, Princess," he teased. "You are not cleared for any type of _vigorous_ activity just yet and if you keep that up, I might lose all self-control."

"Sorry," she muttered. "You haven't left at all? That must have been very boring for you."

"Well, that's not the complete truth. Reina forced me to go back to my flat two days ago to take a proper shower and change clothes. She did not think you would appreciate waking up to find me in dirty clothes with a week old beard."

Hermione laughed softly. As if that would have mattered to her at all! He could've been covered in spattergroit and she still would have wanted his arms around her.

"Noticed something strange when I got there," Thorfinn continued.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Not only was the flat spotless, but every single possession I owned was packed up in neat, little, perfectly labeled boxes. Now who would do something like that for me?"

"I'm not letting you go back to that horrifying neighborhood to sleep in that smelly building."

Thorfinn laughed. He almost sounded like his normal self again. Only a hint of heavy emotion was still present in his voice.

"Well, then that will work perfectly with my plans," he stated.

"What are your plans?"

"To never, _ever_ allow you out of my sight again."

"Funny, I had the same plan with _you_ in mind."

Her wizard nuzzled her curls with his cheek. She could only imagine how horrendous her hair must look after days stuck in a hospital bed, but if Thorfinn did not mind, she would not give it another thought.

"Permanent sticking charm?" he suggested with another laugh.

"Sounds perfect."

She did not want to ask the next question as they were being lighter than they had been when she first woke up. There was a lot she needed to know however.

"So what happened to Smith?"

Thorfinn sighed and kissed the top of her head yet again.

"Well, the auror that caught him almost killed him," he stated.

"What? Iain?"

"Your mate Potter and the tosser had to pull him off of the arsehole. Smashed his face in. Smith had a broken nose, lost a couple of teeth and had a fractured cheekbone. Shacklebolt told me all of this in confidence, of course, but he thought I had a right to know."

"Oh my god. That's awful."

"Potter chose not to reprimand the wizard for his 'excessive use of force' I believe Shacklebolt called it because it was you who was the victim."

Iain had always had a bit of a short fuse. It was another one of the problems they faced in their relationship. While in that circumstance Hermione could certainly excuse his passionate response, when he became furious over a broken teacup, his temper was a problem.

"Another old boyfriend?" Thorfinn asked. She managed a tiny nod of her head. "Oh, Princess. Breaking hearts up and down the British Isles. How many more of them are there out there?"

"The next time I get falsely imprisoned for a crime I did not commit, I will write up a list for you."

Her cheeky response earned her a sharp laugh and the gentlest bite to her shoulder. She joined him in his laughter moments later. It felt surreal to be lying in a lumpy hospital bed with the wizard snuggled up behind her laughing about their pasts. Part of her held on to a tiny fear that she was still dreaming. To keep her mind occupied on less morose thoughts, she used her still limited strength to take a look at the dim hospital room. On the small dresser next to the bed she saw several bouquets of gorgeous flowers and a few homemade 'get well' cards. The childish drawings made her smile. She looked forward to being able to take a closer look at them later.

"You said Reina was back?"

"Yes, she and Pasha brought the girls back the day you were attacked. They've come to visit you every single day. The girls have been very interested in what was happening with you. They've drawn you several pictures."

"That's so sweet. I hope they weren't frightened."

"No, they were more curious than anything. Pasha told the girls you were in an enchanted sleep like Sleeping Beauty. They kept begging me to kiss you like the prince always does in the fairy tale."

Hermione felt her heart tighten at his story. She did not want to cry so soon after waking, but she felt oddly emotional and vulnerable. Being alone with Thorfinn again made her feel all at once completely secure and entirely exposed.

"And did you?" she asked.

"Yes, Princess. Many, many times."

He kissed her head yet again to further his point.

"Would have been nice if you could have woken up the first time I kissed you and Amelia and Lucy were watching. They should think their Uncle Finn can do whatever he wants."

"I'm so sorry that I ruined your plans. Do you want me to pretend to be asleep the next time they visit and you can try again?"

"Nah, the moment has already passed. They will just have to learn that their favorite uncle is indeed fallible."

Their mutual laughter gave way swiftly to another comfortable silence. Hermione had a thousand questions to ask the wizard. While she did not want to ruin the moment, her curiosity soon overrode all of her other feelings.

"So after Iain almost killed Smith, what happened?"

"He made a deal. Once he sobered up, he made a deal with the Ministry. He will spend the next twenty years in Azkaban for attempted murder. Should have been more. It _would've_ been more, but he chose not to stand for a trial. Bloody coward."

"How is Reina?"

Thorfinn sighed again.

"She is doing well considering her husband is now in prison," he answered. "She has already gone to visit him once."

"Really?"

"Yes, she felt she owed it to him. I offered to go with her, but she did not think that was a good idea. She wanted me to stay here in case you woke up. Pasha went with her and I watched the girls. Smith was angry that she did not bring them. Reina reminded her that he had always been of the opinion that Azkaban was no place for children."

"Good for her."

Hermione knew that one of the most painful aspects of Thorfinn's incarceration in Azkaban was that he was not allowed to meet his nieces while he was stuck there. He claimed that he could not blame his brother-in-law for not allowing children to go to Azkaban, but it was still agonizing. She was proud of Reina for standing up to her abusive husband. Too bad it had taken the wizard attempting to commit murder twice before she could.

"Smith's parents have been unbearable the past few days," he continued. "They have begged her to keep his past behavior out of the papers. Apparently having an almost murderer for a son is a great deal preferable to having a son who abuses his wife and children. Image is apparently everything in that family."

"That's disgusting."

"I quite agree. It would have been better if they could have kept their fucking son from touching my sister to begin with. They've quietly given her a very large settlement in exchange for a private and speedy divorce. Trusts have been set up for the girls. They will be well provided for with their father stuck in prison. Pasha has been helping Reina find somewhere else to live."

"That's good. Where?"

"Did you know there is an empty flat on the ground floor of your building?"

She laughed aloud at his question. Yes, she _was_ aware of that fact. Blaise Zabini had put it to great use during his investigation. Speculating how close Reina had obviously grown to the Russian wizard in the past week since he helped keep her and her daughters safe from her abusive soon-to-be ex-husband, Hermione was not surprised to hear that he had encouraged her to move into the nearby flat. It seemed the perfect solution. She would have plenty of support just a few steps up the staircase if needed.

"What about Gemma and Dawlish?"

"They are enjoying the hospitality of Level Eleven while they await their trials," he answered, bitterness dripping off of every word. "Shacklebolt said he is hoping they can get their trials completed sometime next month. You and I both will likely be called to testify."

"Anything to get them in prison where they belong."

"We can talk about all of this later after you've had a proper night's sleep, Princess."

"Are you leaving me now?"

"No. Never again."

* * *

When Hermione woke up again it was mid-morning and she was alone in bed. Hoping that Thorfinn had simply left to get something to eat or because the bed was comfortable, she was pleased to find that turning over to view the rest of her hospital room was no longer impossible. Her body was stiff, but she was able to move. A man was seated in the chair next to the bed reading a newspaper in a language written in an alphabet Hermione could not hope to comprehend.

"Good morning, Hermione," Pasha greeted with a warm smile.

"Hi," she replied, using her still-limited strength to smile back. "Where's Thorfinn?"

"Reina made him go to Fifth Floor Tearoom. He hasn't been eating properly."

She struggled to sit up. Realizing what she was attempting to do, Pasha jumped up to his feet to assist. Between the two of them they were able to get her in a seated position with a couple of pillows propped up behind her back. When she was situated comfortably, the wizard returned to his seat.

"You have been amazing, Pasha," Hermione declared, completely ignoring his rapidly reddening cheeks. "Thank you so much for all you have done."

"There is no need to thank me, Hermione," he replied, obviously uncomfortable with the praise. "I did only what any decent man would do. And honestly, I am selfish."

"You care a great deal for Reina?"

"Yes, I do. I've never forgotten her. It may seem sudden, but I've promised her I am in no rush. We will take our time."

Hermione was truly happy for both of them. Pasha was one of the sweetest men she had ever known. Awkward and clumsy while he was in school, he had grown up a great deal since the year of the Triwizard Tournament. Most of his classmates would likely not even recognize him.

"She's worried that she will disappoint me," Pasha added, his own vulnerability clear in his tone.

"How?"

"Some of the curses that her husband used to use on her…" He had to stop mid-sentence to clench his fists and take a few deep breaths. Hermione could understand. It was how she felt each time she realized what a weak, pathetic coward Zacharias Smith actually was. "Some of the curses damaged her. A year after Lucy was born, she was told she could not have another. She thinks that is why he hurt her more."

"Poor Reina!"

Pasha nodded his head in agreement.

"She thinks that I won't want to marry her if she cannot give me children," he stated. "I told her I have lots of brothers. There will be plenty of Poliakoffs. We would already have two beautiful daughters."

"You are a wonderful man, Pasha."

He smiled before laughing softly.

"Besides, what if we had child that looked like me? It would be tragic."

"I don't think Reina would mind that," she replied, a large smile on both of their faces.

"Yes, well, it will not change my mind. One day, when she is ready, I would be very happy to make her my wife. Do you not think we are moving too fast?"

Hermione had to laugh out loud to his question. Weren't they all moving a little too fast? Her most successful relationships had always involved months and months of waiting around for the other to make up their mind about their true feelings. Knowing without a doubt that Thorfinn already cared very deeply for her was a weight off of her mind. It almost seemed to be a better method. She knew where she stood with him almost from the very beginning. Not like with Charlie. Or even Iain. There was no second guessing whether or not he was genuine. He had already proven to her that he was willing to do just about anything to keep her safe. Willing to give up his freedom if it meant she would no longer be in any danger.

"Perhaps," she answered. "But sometimes I think you just _know_. No need for drama or weeks of trying to decipher what the other is saying. It just feels right."

Anything else they wanted to say was cut short by the return of the Rowle family. Reina entered with Amelia first. Thorfinn was carrying his younger niece just steps behind. All four smiled brightly when they saw that the patient was finally awake.

"How are you feeling?" Thorfinn asked right after he kissed her. He ran his hand through her messy curls.

"Just very, very tired," she answered. "I feel like I could sleep for weeks."

"Maybe we can take you home soon. It'll be easier to rest there."

He was right, of course. Home was exactly where she wanted to be. Even after the events of Sunday afternoon when she was held hostage in her own flat and feared for her life, she wanted to go back there. It was familiar and she wanted her wizard there with her. Reina crossed the room to kiss Hermione's cheek.

"We are going to leave," she announced. "You need your rest and now that I'm satisfied Finnie actually consumed a meal, we should go."

Hermione and Thorfinn said their goodbyes to the other four. Once they were all out of the room, Thorfinn climbed back on the bed with her. He settled her against his chest. Neither spoke at first, simply enjoying the sensation of being together again.

She loved the feeling of his large arms around her body. It made her feel safe, like no harm could possibly come to her as long as he was around. Hermione ran her hands down his forearms to convince herself that she wasn't dreaming. As he always did, Thorfinn tensed when her left hand ran down his left forearm. She hoped there would come a day when he would no longer worry about the fact that she could see and even feel his Dark Mark. It did not bother her. Maybe there had been a time when it would have disturbed her, but no longer. To further prove her point, she grasped his left arm with both of her hands. She rubbed his wrist with her right hand.

"Thorfinn, where…"

The silver ring that he was forced to wear to contain his magic was gone. Thorfinn stretched his arm out to flex the bare spot that the hated metal used to reside. She could almost hear the satisfied smile on his face.

"An attempt by the Ministry to apologize for almost chucking me back in Azkaban," he declared. "They've shortened my parole by two years. I'm allowed to do magic again. No longer a Squib."

"That's wonderful."

"I still have to have my wand monitored, but I don't plan on running off to join another homicidal maniac's legion of Dark soldiers again. It should not be a problem."

Sarcasm and humor were other tools he used to keep from getting too emotional about aspects and events in his life that were upsetting. Hermione knew not to take his flippant tone too seriously. He would likely never forgive himself for the part he played in the last war. The daily reminders of his Dark Mark and his Azkaban prisoner tattoo would make certain of that.

"I plan on being a good boy for the rest of my life," he continued. "No Dark Magic. No Unforgivables. I have too much to lose now."

To further his point, he wrapped his arms around her snugger and kissed her head. Hermione knew that he was not only talking about her. He had a sister and two small nieces who also needed his support. Even then she could not help but feel extremely touched by his remark.

"At least now you can use magic to clean the floors at the Ministry," she stated.

Thorfinn laughed.

"No, Princess. I _never_ have to go back to the Ministry again."

"What? What about your job?"

"Now that the first part of my parole is completed, I am free to go out into the world and make my own way again. I only have to return to the Ministry for portkey authorizations, a marriage license and to testify in those arseholes' trials. Maybe to escort my future children to take their Apparition tests, but I imagine their mother will be unable to resist taking them herself."

Hermione tried to focus on anything other than his words. She knew how serious he was about her. When she teased him a lifetime earlier about her being expected to shag him for the rest of their lives, he had been more than a little excited at the prospect. His eyes shone with something akin to pride, lust and awe each time he looked in her direction. Thorfinn was all in. She was nervous. What if she was unable to measure up to his expectations? He had already experienced so much disappointment in his life.

"I can hear you thinking out loud," Thorfinn teased. "The Healer said you aren't supposed to do anything taxing for at least another week. Stop."

She tried to smile and brush it all off.

"What are you going to do now that you don't have to work at the Ministry?"

"I have an idea," he said without further elaboration.

Hermione waited for several moments to see if he would explain himself in further detail. Her inquisitive nature got the best of her.

"What's your idea? Is it something I can help with?"

" _Maybe_ , but we will talk about it when you are stronger."

"You realize that _not_ telling me what you're thinking is almost as bad as torture."

"So dramatic, Princess," he laughed. "We will consider this a growing and learning experience for you. Patience is a virtue."

She sighed.

"I hate you," she muttered with no heat whatsoever. He laughed again.

"No, you don't. If you hated me, you would not have invited me to live with you after such a short time together."

"Don't read too much into it. I wouldn't let a stray dog move back into your awful flat."

Instead of being insulted, Thorfinn continued to find her remarks amusing. He pushed her hair back from her neck to place a kiss on the spot he knew always made her moan in delight. Neither one of them were disappointed. Knowing she was not ready for anything he had in mind, the wizard stopped his attentions almost as soon as he began them. Hermione tried unsuccessfully to hide her disappointment.

"Well, I will just try to be the best puppy you've ever had," Thorfinn joked.

They were interrupted by the arrival of Hermione's team of Healers. Thorfinn reluctantly climbed off the bed to allow them to do a thorough examination. When he was asked politely to leave the room, he informed them in no uncertain terms that he was not letting his witch out of his sights. Hermione's heart swelled.

"It appears that the worst of the curse has passed, Miss Granger," one of the Healers declared. "All of your vital stats are where they should be now. You will likely be physically exhausted for several days yet. Lots of bed rest is required, but now that you are awake, I do not see any reason why you cannot continue your convalescence at home."

She thanked the Healers profusely for their assistance. Before she had a chance to ask, Thorfinn blurted out the question she had been wondering since they first walked in.

"When can I take her out of here?"

"We will get the discharge forms ready immediately."

Over an hour passed before Hermione was dressed and ready to leave. Kingsley had arrived for his daily visit during that period. He was very pleased to see that she had finally woken up from the enchanted sleep the Healers put her under to allow her body adequate time to heal. Between the two wizards, they were able to get her to the Apparition point of the ground floor. Thorfinn did not trust himself to Side-Along Apparate her home due to his lack of practice over the previous ten years. The Minister gladly accepted the task, happy to be of assistance.

"Reina came in yesterday to clean your flat," Thorfinn explained when the two of them helped Hermione into the front door. "There was still a bit of damage from all of the excitement the other day. She wanted you to be able to come home and not worry about it."

"That was very kind of her."

"I'm beginning to wonder, Princess, if she doesn't love you more right now than she does her own brother."

"That's ridiculous."

"Not at all," he argued. "You fought for me when no one else would. You saved me, Princess. She's not going to forget that any time soon."

Once they were safely inside, Kingsley made his excuses to head back to the Ministry. He kissed Hermione's cheek and shook Thorfinn's hand. When the door shut behind him leaving the two lovers alone in the flat for the first time since the day their lives changed, Hermione found her strength waning. Realizing she was exhausted, Thorfinn deftly picked her up in his arms to carry her to bed.

"The last time you carried me to bed was a night I'm sure I'll never forget," Hermione said as he settled her down under the bedcovers.

"Neither will I." He kissed her forehead. "And when you are strong again, I have every intention of repeating that night down to every last delicious detail."

* * *

Wednesday

The next week passed by quickly for Hermione due to the hours and hours she slept each day. Thorfinn made certain that she consumed the dozens of potions the Healers required she take to continue her healing. True to his word, he never left her alone. A few times she knew he slipped out of the flat to go Merlin knows where, but each time he left either Reina or Pasha to watch over her. Once Kingsley volunteered for the task.

Visitors had been coming in and out of the flat during her entire convalescence. To her great surprise, several members of the Weasley family came over to bring well wishes and gifts. Hermione thought she was dreaming when Molly walked into her bedroom with a casserole under her arm. She had been of the opinion that Charlie's mother would never forgive her for tossing her son over for a former Death Eater. Apparently almost dying was an incentive for most of her loved ones to forget their prejudices. Ginny refused to come by despite Harry's multiple visits, some official, some personal. Angelina tried to assure Hermione that Ginny would one day come around. Hermione was resolute that she would not hold her breath waiting for the only Weasley daughter to get over her disappointment.

"I have a surprise for you," Thorfinn announced just before lunch time on Wednesday. She had been strong enough to get dressed and move to the sofa in the living room. Definite progress. "Do you think you would be up to taking a little trip today?"

She would have tagged along to the corner market and been ecstatic to do so. Too much time in bed and within the confines of her flat was beginning to get to Hermione. Despite him being amazingly patient, she had started taking her frustration out on the one person who was always available. Thorfinn took it all in stride. Even went so far as to tell her when she apologized for being rude that he was going to be positively unbearable the next time he had a cold.

"Where are you taking me?" Hermione asked a short time later when they were standing in the alley behind the building. Thorfinn had been extremely vague about their destination. Only asked her to wear warm clothing because they would be outside for part of the trip. "No, no, don't tell me. It's a _surprise_."

"Just hold on to me, Princess, and try not to get splinched."

Thorfinn's chuckles were ringing in her ears as he Side-Along Apparated them to the main thoroughfare of Diagon Alley. Late Wednesday mornings in the middle of late February were not a real thriving time in the shopping district. Though they had both been the subject of numerous Daily Prophet articles since he was attacked in her flat by Charlie, no one paid them much mind.

"What are we doing, Thorfinn?"

" _Patience_ , Princess."

He grasped her hand and led her down the alley a short ways. She could tell that they were on the South Side of the Alley, but beyond that, she had no clue where he was taking her. Finally he stopped in front of the building located at 18a. It was a tall structure, at least four stories high. Nothing but a small wooden sign hanging by the front door showed any indication of what it was.

" _Obscurus Books_ ," she read. "Thorfinn, what…"

"My uncle passed away a few weeks ago."

"Oh! I'm so sorry to hear that."

He brushed off her condolences.

"No, he was a terrible man, Hermione. Worse than my father, if you can believe it. I was his only heir. We Rowles have never been as well-off as the Malfoys or even most of the other Pureblood families, but we do have a large manor home in the country. Reina and I grew up there and we both hate it. Too many bad memories."

"Okay…"

She had no idea where he was going with his explanation. All she could tell was that he was fit to bursting with excitement about something.

"Shacklebolt introduced me to his partner when I was still locked up in the Ministry. I told him that I wanted to sell the manor as soon as possible. At the time I assumed that I would soon be locked back up in Azkaban for the remainder of my sorry life. What did I need property for? Ryan found me a buyer and then he helped me find this place."

"Thorfinn, I don't understand."

"I bought this book publishing house, Princess. Ryan sent over the keys to me this morning."

He released her hand to unlock the front door. The interior was quiet, but clean and well-kept. Obviously it had not lain idle for very long. Thorfinn led her inside to the main room showing a display of the most popular books they published. Hermione could not resist running her fingers over some very familiar titles. _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander was one of her favorites.

"My goal was if I was going to be chucked away in Azkaban again, that I would not leave you unprovided for."

"Thorfinn…"

"You hate your job. It makes you miserable and you aren't getting anywhere. I was hoping that if I couldn't be here with you, I could at least make your life a little bit happier."

"You bought me a publishing house?"

Thorfinn pulled her into the safety of his arms. He placed two fingers under chin to gently force her eyes to meet his.

"Technically, I bought _me_ a publishing house, but I am currently in need of an editor to run it. Do you know any nosy, little swots who might be interested?"

"Thorfinn, this is too much."

"Not at all," he assured her. "And besides, I really am going to need you to make it a success. I have no more money."

His wink set her laughing. They celebrated with a searing a kiss.

"There will also be some strings attached, of course," he added with another laugh.

"Like what?"

"Well, the editor will be expected to provide sexual favors to the owner on a regular basis."

She snorted.

"Well, than I suppose I will just have to take the position. Couldn't let some other unsuspecting witch be forced to endure the sexual harassment, now can I?"

"I'm pleased you are willing to make that sacrifice, Princess."

"Oh, it's no sacrifice."

They continued their celebration by reacquainting themselves with each other's bodies on the floor of the empty publishing house.

* * *

 _Two years later…_

"You're working too hard, Princess."

Hermione ignored the chastisement of her husband for yet another time that day. He was of the opinion that she had plenty of employees who should be willing to step in and take over the brunt of the day-to-day running of their business. They had been able to completely turn around the almost-failing publishing house with a great deal of hard work. Thorfinn had proven himself to be a dab hand at accounting. He took care of crunching the numbers while Hermione practically did everything else. With fifteen trusted and highly competent employees working underneath her, she should have no reason to spend most of her waking hours inside the building inhaling the ink fumes from the magical printing presses.

"Nonsense, Thorfinn," she retorted. "We have three large orders from Flourish and Blotts that _must_ be completed before the end of the week."

The wizard slipped his arms around his wife's thickening waist. His hands rested on the swollen belly that contained all of their hopes for the future. Only two more months before they would expand their small family and he could hardly wait. Naturally his fears that something would go wrong before the day came were never far from his mind. And if his stubborn witch didn't start taking better care of herself…

"Princess, you have built this business with me so I know very well it can run without you here."

"Thorfinn…"

"We are going to trust our lovely staff to complete the orders on time."

"But I…"

"I am going to take you home."

"The printing press needs…"

"And I am going to run you a hot bath."

"The suppliers…"

"I am going to remove all of your clothes."

"Thorfinn…"

"And you and I are going to forget the rest of the world even exists."

The End…

* * *

 _Author's Notes: Thank you so very much for all of the support each one of you has shown while I wrote this story. I have adored reading your reviews and can hardly contain my excitement every time I see another new Follower or Favorite._


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